


After Hours

by BookishTea



Category: South Park
Genre: Background Relationships, Dom/sub, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Kyman - Freeform, M/M, Older Characters, One-Sided Relationship, Roughness, Unconventional Relationship, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-04-06 08:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 41,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4214616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookishTea/pseuds/BookishTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With an upcoming high school reunion, Kyle Broflovski will remember why he abandoned some relationships. And will have him questioning why he never pursued others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introducing The Creature

_"Time changes everything except something within us which is always surprised by change." - Thomas Hardy_

 

Kyle Broflovski liked to consider himself a creature of habit, someone who preferred order to chaos. So naturally, Kyle fell into his father's footsteps and pursued a career in law. The years at university were long and hard, but he always enjoyed a challenge. And following this life, he soon found himself in Denver. Gone were his childhood adventures in snowy fields, instead crumpled coffee cups and spreadsheets took its place.

Kyle sighed as he leaned back, a wary hand running through his hair. He tried to ignore the way his hand was caught in the curls, a jungle of untameable red. Some things appear to never change, even with time. Speaking of which...

A sudden ping from Kyle's pocket had him pulling out his sleek phone, humming under his breath, he wasn't surprised to see another message from his mother.

**I'm so excited to see you, bubby! xox**

He contemplated ignoring it, perhaps answering it when he got home after work. But that would be pointless, she'd just worry even more.

Before he had the chance to respond, his phone pinged with another message.

**And don't forget to pack a couple of sweaters! It's a bit chilly this time of year. xox**

Kyle rolled his eyes, but still smiled fondly at his mother's antics. She meant well.

**Don't worry, I will. Thanks, Mum.**

Not wanting to spend the rest of his day having a long winded conversation with his mother, quickly Kyle turned off his phone. Only feeling a tad bit guilty for doing so, but everyone needs space. Even more so if you had to deal with his crazy mother. Familiar image of her behind his eyelids, immediately Kyle was reminded of the lack of sleep he got last night. Which wasn't very much different from this week, or year.

Blindly Kyle groped for the styrofoam by his side, first feeling the heat than anything else. Drawing the cup close, he shuddered at the presence of coffee lovingly undertoned by hazelnuts. This is what got him up in the morning, something that he was only slightly ashamed to admit. It made him sound pathetic, saying that.

He took a swig from the cup, embracing the burn as it slid down his throat. It wasn't his fault, none of this was. He was doing so well, finally he had escaped the claws of South Park and its crazy citizens. Here at Colorado's capital he had established himself at a prestigious law firm, with a considerable pay to support him. The work might be a bit tedious at times, but it was his.

Life was good in that respect, thankfully he wasn't eating week old pizza from dumpsters. The only issue he had, a small thing really, was his love life. Kyle didn't think he was needy or anything, so he didn't understand why he had no one to split the rent with, or share his bed. Instead he had the occasional one-night stands, usually with guys from the local bar who looked impressive under dimmed lighting and a haze of alcohol. In the morning however, Kyle was left with a gritty mouth and the unmistakable sense of disappointment. Those were the good nights, the ones where he actually got to sleep.

Last night was the complete opposite, one of the worst he's had in a while, something he blames partly on that date. The possibility of seeing him again, and the chance he'd change his mind was constant. He hated it, feeling so used and unsatisfied. Fuck, he wasn't a child anymore.

But that's what he felt like, a stupid puppy yearning for affection from an oblivious owner. And he despised it, what it had done to him and what it was continuing to do. Kyle was caught between punching Stan in that attractive face of his, or kissing the moron until these fantasies were gone. In two days time he would face the object of his pining, and he would realize these emotions were fake. Or that's what he wanted.

Kyle Broflovski was a creature of habit, and nobody was going to affect that. Not even Stan Marsh.

* * *

"Are you always this stupid?"

"N-no, sir."

"Are you sure? 'Cause you're really busting my balls here, Haley."

"I'm sor-ry, sir. That was never my intentions." Cartman waved off his assistant's apologizing, not really that pissed off with her. But tension was building with the reunion's upcoming date, and Cartman couldn't resist picking on Haley's naivety. It was her own fault for being so sensitive, idiot.

"Then you should have gotten it right the first time. Now go get it fixed."

"Yes! Right away!" And with that the petite woman was scampering away, reminding Cartman of a particular blonde from his youth. Both were so easy to rile up.

Eyeing the dishes of Chinese food by his papers, Cartman sighed. She forgot to take them with her. Again.

"Haley!" he screamed, the harshness of his voice vibrating within the glass room. It lingered for a moment, echoing until Haley's shimmering locks peered back into the room.

"Y-yes?"

Cartman didn't say anything, and instead rose a brow as he nodded to his desk. Once again questioning his assistant's intelligence, and whether he should just get a new one.

"I am s-so sorry sir, I totally f-"

"Haley, just fucking take it."

She blinked for a moment, that blank look appearing once again. Alright, now she was starting to get under his skin. Taking deep calming breaths, Cartman fought back the desire to throw his stapler at her face. Time had done him well, and with it he gained control over his impatience and anger. But like always, Haley seemed to push Cartman's buttons.

Deciding to tread lightly, Haley stepped into the room. Like she was facing an angry bear, she kept eye contact as she slowly approached the desk and gingerly picked up the plastic containers.

"Will that be everything, Mr. Cartman?"

"If your head is removed from your ass, then yes. And bring me my dinner. The right order this time."

She didn't need anymore confirmation after that, thankful to make her escape without any injuries this time.

"Dumbass." Cartman muttered under his breath, musing over what he called a life. He gave a jolt in surprise at the sudden vibration in his pocket, causing him to quake like a bowl of jello.

_Probably those idiots in the east branch_ , Cartman thought with a sigh, digging his phone out.

2 new messages from: The Poor Kid

Blinking in surprise, Cartman thumbed through his inbox. Disregarding all of the business related messages in there, and going straight to his childhood friend's.

**Heyyy, dude. are u exciteed for this reunion? Im so am!**

**Totally going to be ur wingman, get u all of the hoot guys.**

Cartman gave a loud snort in amusement, the text was practically radiating alcohol. Chewing his bottom lip, Cartman quickly shot off a response.

**How drunk are you, Kenny?**

**Message me when you can communicate like an actual human being, I'm working.**

With that Cartman tossed his phone to the opposite side of his desk, not wanting Kenny to be another distraction to his work. Even if he was right, which was a miracle all together.

His phone vibrated again, shaking the papers underneath it with a mini earthquake. Cartman rolled his eyes, picking his pen up in an attempt to focus on numbers that needed to be crunched. It was hard being the CEO of half a dozen small companies, and a rather large time traveling enterprise.

Another vibration. Oh screw it, who was he kidding. Filled with curiosity, Cartman quickly snatched up his cell.

**I forgot u were some bigg businessman, am i bothering u? But seriously, were going 2 get u laiddd...Ok, maybe im a little buzzed.**

Cartman chuckled lightly, glad to see that Kenny was always the same poor kid. Race car driving didn't change him, which he couldn't say for the other two.

He grimaced with the thought, old faces and memories stabbing his chest like prickly sheets of glass.

**Well, I am.** Cartman paused, wondering if he'd regret this later. Probably. Still, his fingers flew across the keyboard.

**If you think you're up to see me getting sucked, then I'm all yours, poor boy. Try not to vomit yourself to death until we meet up.**

Haley popped in, a little unnerved to see her boss in such a good mood. Usually that was reserved for when his empire increased in size, or some natural disaster happened.

"Sir, I have your food. The correct order this time." Haley mumbled, lifting to show Cartman the white bulky bags.

The scent of chow mein and rice wafting from the bags, it had both of their mouth's watering. Cartman waved her in, eyes not lifting from his phone's screen.

"Grab two plates, Haley."

"Sir?"

With a smirk, he peered upwards. "Do you want some or not?"

"Uh, yes sir! I-I'll go get some right now."

The vibration in his hand pulled him away from the sight of Haley's frantic movements, a grin at his lips.

**Then South Park better look out, 2 sexy guys are on their way. Im making no promises, i plan on getting shitfaced this whole week. Fuckk, we should meet up!**

Clicking his tongue in fondness, Cartman lazily responded back.

**The first round will be on me, but only if you'll help me with a little prank.**


	2. A Persistently Remembered Dream

_"The night is the hardest time to be alive and 4am knows all my secrets." - Poppy Z. Brite_

 

This is what he expected after a tiring day, the fruitless attempt of things. Laying in bed and pondering life, and the reason why he couldn't fall asleep like everyone else. His eyeballs felt burnt, crying for quiet rest. But it was useless, sleep was nowhere to be found.

Past mistakes and conflict swirled inside his head, pounding like a weathered drum. The residing echo was a migraine, well equipt to torment him.

And at the forefront was Stan's face, timid but compassionate.

They've known each other since the beginning, and shared every success and failure. Kyle always hoped that he'd continue this path with Stan by his side, but more as a partner than a friend.

Fate was cruel in that sense, merely giving him a taste. Kyle groaned, digging his head into his lumpy pillows. On their own accord, his fingers twitched uncontrollably. He was unaware of the spasm.

_The wind howled out in the distant, sounding like it was behind an invisible wall. It was warm that day, with a light dusting of snow underneath their feet. This was the perfect time and day to ask, Kyle was sure of it. But that didn't make it any easier, in fact Kyle was plain terrified. It was only the two of them at the bus-stop, so it should have been easy to ask. And yet he hasn't, not yet._

_"S-Stan?" he started, voice briefly cracking in anxiety._

_Stan glanced over, eyes half-lidded with the urge to sleep. "Yeah, what's up?"_

_This was it, his big chance. He felt slimy, invisible worms inching along goosebump riddled skin. "I've been meaning to, uh, ask you something..."_

_"Hm?"_

_Kyle shook his head to himself, assaulted with a new-found emotion. It was both brilliant and terrifying. God, Stan was attractive._

_His friend's silky black hair was tousled from his warm bed, yet appeared effortlessly fashionable. Something he could never achieve, not with his rat's nest. Come on, Broflovski. You can do this._

_He nibbled on the inside of his cheek, teeth grazing the soft flesh of his mouth. "Do you want to go on a date?"_

_"What?"_

_Shit, he's looking now. Really looking._

_He appeared to be mulling over the words, head tilting with the question. It made Kyle love him even more._

_"What, like a play date? Don't you think we're getting too old for that? We're in high school now."_

_"Yeah." Kyle caught himself saying, trying to pass the whole thing off as a simple play date._

_No, you have to know his answer or it'll haunt you for the rest of your life._

_"N-no, not a play date."_

_"Alright...what do you mean?"_

_Kyle sighed, Stan could really be heedless sometimes. Mustering all of the courage he held, Kyle stared off into the distance. A breeze of ice particles danced on the field's surface, sparkling like diamonds._

_Loudly Kyle sniffed, his nose felt heavy and damp._

_"I want to date you, Stan. Romantically."_

_Nothing. There was an abyss between them, and Kyle wanted to sink inside. The minutes that passed by shook Kyle to his core, curdling his stomach. He was tempted to speak out, to fill this empty space. But he couldn't, Stan had to be the first one._

_"I don't know what to say..."_

_Just say yes._

_"I-I'm sorry, dude." No. "I just, don't feel the same way..."_

_Kyle looked away from the field, glancing at Stan's expression. There was no ridicule there, no contempt. He just felt...sorry, silently wishing he didn't have to hurt his friend._

_It would have been easier if there was some, so Kyle could block out the heartbreak with anger. He blinked as a wave assaulted him, causing his eyes to water up._

_Fuck, he wasn't going to cry. Not in front of him._

_"Look at these losers, showing up early like a bunch of tools."_

_Using the distraction of Kenny and Cartman's arrival, Kyle discretely wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, getting rid of the evidence._

_"I'd rather be early than late, fatass." Kyle greeted, adding a laugh to the end of the comment. It sounded fake to his ears, almost hollow. Stan must have felt the same way, as he furrowed his brow, looking away._

_"Shut the fuck up, Jew! I'm big-boned!"_

_This is what he needed, Cartman's loud and obnoxious voice to fill in the void._

_"That's what you think!"_

Kyle groaned as an insistent ringing shrieked in his ears, the lovely sound of someone calling his phone. He screwed his eyes shut, hoping that he'd get away with a nap. Last night didn't do much good for him, and seemed to make him even more restless.

"Fuck!" he called out, voice raspy.

Rolling onto his side, he grabbed the phone placed on his bedside table.

Incoming call from: Mother

"Hello?" he answered, rubbing at his eyes.

"Kyle? Why aren't you over yet?"

He glanced over to his clock, 6:05 am.

"It's only six, Mum."

"And?"

"I'm on my way." Kyle said with a sigh, accepting that he'd have to leave the comfort of his bed. Something that felt rather empty with only him in it.

"Don't forget to eat breakfast, you know how cranky you can get!"

"Thanks, Mum."

* * *

"The time is 6:05 am, Mr. Cartman."

"Thank you, Haley." Cartman hummed, finally clambering out of bed. His stomach rumbled with the movement, begging for food. He ignored it for now.

"How's the stock?"

"Up by 2.30%, sir."

"Good." he paused with a loud yawn, the corners of his eyes becoming watery. He continued with, "Did you book me a room?"

"Yes, sir." Haley stepped into his line of sight, her dress neat and tidy as she held Cartman's outfit of the day.

Both were nearly blinded by the light streaming in through the windows, casting an angelic glow among the pair. He turned his back to Haley, arms raised. In the next instant the softness of cotton encircled his arms, the white dress shirt still warm from the iron.

Neither cared that Cartman was still in his boxers, Haley had seen him at his lowest and highest point. And it wasn't as if she was an intern anymore, those years were hell on earth. The time where every day was a battle, trying her hardest to trudge through the sadistic mind games.

But it was all worth it, to earn his trust. And to be awarded a hefty pay, with benefits.

"Are you looking forward to it?"

Fine to button up his own shirt, Cartman darted his gaze up to his assistant's face. Curiosity and perhaps even companionship, unlike the common snakes that tried to poison his life on a daily basis.

_She needs something to keep quiet, but nothing big to get her hopes up. Keep them wanting, and in the palm of your hand._

He shrugged, feigning an indifference to the event. "Not much has changed, I'll bet you that. Same assholes, but coupled up with lesser ones."

Haley nodded in understanding, but she didn't know, not really. South Park was engraved in Cartman's veins, thickening it until it boiled into a desire of wealth and independence. Without that small town, he may not have been able to claw his way to the top. To realize how ruthless he could be, murder not-withstanding.

"But surely there isn't only, er-unpleasant people in South Park. I was even informed of a new mayor and police force taking over."

Cartman laughed, a loud and hearty sound. "You can't honestly believe that, can you, Haley? Use some of those brain cells God gave you for once!" he simpered.

Haley flushed with the comment, but said nothing to defend herself. The topic may seem lighthearted right now, but her boss was quick to turn that into a heated argument. Those days left her in the nearest bathroom, trying her best to quieten her sobs. Any attempt to tame him left her with far more scars, and the reminder that his time in jail was necessary.

"No matter the smell, shit is shit. And the same goes for corruption, and honey, South Park is exactly that. Corrupt."

Giving her a toothy smile, Cartman grabbed his pants from his assistant's folded arms. Seconds later, he was zipped up and ready to take on the day.

Ideas rolling inside her head, Haley pondered if she should approach it again. But it was a stupid idea, and already Mr. Cartman appeared irritated with her. Best to not push her luck. But despite all of these warnings, Haley couldn't contain herself.

"And what about you, sir?"

The frankness of her words startled both of them, but Cartman was momentarily fazed. His expression receded upon itself, and lacked all of its signature flair. That look both chilled and excited her, a deadly concoction.

"I'm the biggest one." he admitted, striding over to grab his phone from a glossy table. "And South Park best remember that."

Kenny's message popped inside of his head, it may have been written in a drunken haze. But that didn't make it any less true.

**Then South Park better look out, 2 sexy guys are on their way...**

If only Kenny knew how true that statement was.


	3. How To Remove Mothballs

_"No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home & rests his head on his old, familiar pillow." - Lin Yutang_

 

Followed constantly by the looming wrath of his mother, slowly Kyle made the drive over to South Park. The early morning cleared up to reveal a sunny day, something that did little to chase away the choppy wind. And yet the sky remained cheerful, a brilliant shade of yellow. Like a giant yolk, just sizzling until it popped and hissed.

His phone pinged, grating on his sleep-deprived nerves. Kyle huffed, sparing the seat across from him a fleeting look. Whoever it was, they'd just have to wait.

The roads were bad enough, traffic barely inching along. His mother was right, surprisingly. He should have left sooner. But he'd never admit that, at least not to her.

"Come on." he grumbled, leaning over to grab his travel mug. Liquid energy. Better known as coffee, was filled to the brim. He nosily blew on the steaming mug, before he took a mighty large gulp of the tar.

The cafe he frequented appeared rather busy, like always. And so, in his hurry, Kyle lowered his standards to a common coffeehouse. It was't generally bad, if you could stomach it.

He gave another shudder. It was certain that the coffee was coating his stomach in a layer of death, but man did it wake you up. Which made sense, as far as Kyle could tell, truckers solicited that shop like crows on a rotting carcass.

The inexpensive price and the busty waitresses, probably contributed highly to this.

"Are you kidding me!" Kyle groaned. He placed the mug back into its cup holder, hand burnt from the immense heat. Slender fingers drummed against the leather steering wheel, anxious to get out this jam.

The red metal from the van in front of him, clawed at his eyes as it reflected the sun's harsh rays. It didn't look like it'd be moving any sooner.

_Great, he was going to be late again. His mum was going to be so pissed._

* * *

Kenny McCormick was so fucking excited, this reunion was going to be _sweet!_

Cartman hadn't showed up yet, so Kenny didn't find any issue with shooting back a couple of beers in his honour. This all happened at Skeeter's Bar and Cocktails to be exact.

Despite it being pretty fucking early in the morning, already there was a handful of patrons filling the bar.

"Hasn't changed at all." Kenny mumbled under his breath. He took another large gulp from his beer, a local invention. It perfectly captured the image of South Park, cheap and shitty. But man, did it ever get you drunk.

"Kenny?"

The blonde jolted to life, surprised by his name tainting the air. He was even more surprised to see a familiar face, one that wasn't greyed with cigarette yellowing teeth.

Stan Marsh.

"Stan!?" Kenny called out, scampering from his booth.

Eagerly the pair joined in a hug, tightly clinging to one another. At once old memories popped up, ones that Kenny long forgot.

"What are you doing here?" Stan asked, face genuinely happy as they stepped away from one another.

"Oh, just having a beer." the shorter man admitted, nodding towards his abandoned drink.

Stan chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief, "It's not even 8 AM yet, dude."

Kenny lazily laughed, slinking back to his booth. He didn't have to look over his shoulder to know Stan followed, and seemed delighted to sit across from him.

"Well, it won't look as bad when I have company."

"What, you plan on cheating on me?" Stan asked jokingly, Kenny shared a quiet laugh with him, happy to fall into old habits.

"No," Kenny said after a moment, "Cartman is going to grace my presence."

Stan choked on his laughter, eyes widening as he stared at the blonde man.

" _Eric_ Cartman?"

"Yep."

"Bu-man, I haven't thought of Cartman in years! He like, disappeared straight after high-school."

Kenny nodded, once again grabbing his beer. The sweating glass bottle greeted his clammy hand, mingling together until they dripped down onto the wooden table.

"What does he even do?" Stan pondered, rubbing at the back of his neck. Kenny merely shrugged in response, not entirely sure.

His companion frowned at the lack of information, before his shoulders dejectedly fell.

"I think he's in business?"

"Well that's not much of a surprise. Like what, real estate?"

Kenny laughed at that one, tossing his head back until his hair brushed against the booth's cushions. Stan flushed, slightly embarrassed. In order to defend himself, he loudly spoke out, "I mean, like scams or something! Let's be honest here, Cartman couldn't have changed that much."

"You got that right, Stan." Kenny hummed, offering Stan a smile before he took another large gulp of his beer.

* * *

"Bubby!" Sheila Broflovski called out, tears streaming down her face as she bounded down the porch.

She was always so emotional during these times, like he went off for war. Only it sort of was to her, instead of dodging bullets, her son fought for justice in the courtroom.

Her eldest child had left the nest, and was awfully alone in the city. Which wouldn't have happened if Kyle married a nice Jewish girl, which obviously wasn't going to happen. But that didn't stop her from persistently trying to be a matchmaker.

"Mum." Kyle passively greeted, climbing out his car. Immediately he was embraced in a bear-hug, slowly suffocating in the scent of lavendar, and ever faint kasha.

She smelt like home. He...he was _home._

"I missed you, bubby!" his mother sobbed into his jacket, fingers tightening their hold until her talons dug into his clothed skin.

In practiced control, Kyle withheld a flinch. And lovingly patted on his mother's back, ignoring the sudden rise in emotions in him.

"I missed you too." he mumbled at last, pressing his head into his mother's mass of hair.

"Shelia, let the poor boy go." a voice called out from the background, evidently from the same porch his mother had just left.

Kyle smiled when his mother suddenly let go of him, but not because of his new-found freedom. "Hey, dad."

Tired from countless piles of paperwork, Gerald leaned his weight against his home's door. With the struggle at his job and his wife's constant worrying, Gerald was worn down to just a shell. Still, his eyes lite up at the sight of his family together.

"Kyle." he said with a wave of his hand, motioning for his son to enter his embrace. His luggage was still in his car's trunk, but that was momentarily forgotten. He leapt at the chance, quickly clearing the distance between them until he was a foot away.

He hesitated, unsure if his time away made him... _different_. Or if his father found him off-putting, now that he aware his son was gay. If he thought so, Gerald didn't say anything.

Based on his pure caution, Kyle rose his hand for a hand shake. Common and practical, something he was sure his father could respect. Be proud of...

"Kyle." Gerald sighed, shoulders drooping at the gesture. This is when Kyle suddenly flinched, heartbeat fluttering like a butterfly with a broken wing.

His father grabbed his arm, yanking his son into a hug. No words were said, but they certainly weren't needed.

Sheila filled the silence with her voice, loud and frequent. And just like always, it sliced cleanly through.

"What are we waiting here for? Let's get ourselves some food, poor Kyle must be famished!"

"Mum, I'm not a child anymore!"

"Don't take that tone with me, young man."

"Leave the boy _alone_ , Sheila!"

Kyle was glad to be home, honestly, he was. Deep down...somewhere...

* * *

Meanwhile a similar event was taking place, but the newly deemed lawyer wasn't aware of it. The only difference was it happened for Eric Cartman, and the results were not quite the same.

With all of his efforts and plans to lose contact with his whore of a mother, still Cartman found himself unable to escape her.

He liked to consider himself a rational man, not to mention a genius in a world of idiots. So why return? Moments like these, Cartman hated not having the answers.

It boiled his blood, making it sing out for violence. If he was younger then maybe he'd ease those desires, but times are different. He's different. Better. Cartman 2.0

"You'll be fine, sir." Haley encouraged, going as far as to pat her employer's arm.

He didn't feel fine, he didn't want to do this.

But fuck it, he was Eric Cartman and he isn't scared of anyone. And certainly not his mother.

The call button was pressed, sending a high pitched ringing through the air. Each ring had Cartman's heart pounding in his chest. **Thump**. **Thump.**

"Hello?"

_No. No. Mission Abort. Fuck. He was bailing. Fuckkk._

That hand on his arm pressed harder, a reminder of Haley's feminine presence.

"Hello?" his mother tried again, voice timid and sweet. _A fucking lie_ ; he still felt the same desire to punch something, to scream until he couldn't anymore.

"Hello, Mother."

"E-Eric?"

"Yes, it's me." Cartman rolled his eyes, she was still stupid. "Unless you had more children I need to know about." That was meant to be a joke, but it came out bitter. He frowned at the feeling, of letting his emotions colour his actions. Haley's eyes never left him, unwavering with pity.

"Of course not, you're my precious angel!"

Haley scoffed at that, struggling to keep her giggles secret. She didn't fare well, and Cartman glared at her in response.

She stayed quiet after that.

" _Right_. I wanted you to know that I'm showing up for the reunion, do you want me to pay you a visit?"

"Oh! Of course, 'hun! Does Mummy have to lend you any money?"

"No, Mom."

"Alright, 'hun. Then show up at any time, besides nighttime! Mummy has to work during the night."

Cartman grunted in response, unconsciously running a hand through his hair. Fucking disgusting.

"See you soon then, 'hun!"

He didn't grace her with a response, and instead hung up.

"Sir, wasn't that rude?"

Cartman narrowed his eyes at the question, eyeing the assistant sprawled across his luxurious hotel bed. Well, as high-quality as South Park got.

"I don't pay you for personal questions, Haley. Did you order me lunch? I still plan on meeting Kenny for a couple of drinks."

"Quite well said, sir." Haley mumbled, before slowly sliding off of the bed. Smoothing the fabric of her dress as she stood back up, she gave him a careful look-over.

"Will that be everything, sir?"

"Yes."

He didn't watch her leave, door slowly closing shut behind her. Eric Cartman didn't need anyone but himself, he was strong now. Or that's what he told himself.

"Fuck!" he roared out, flinging his cell away from him. The device shattered into sharp pieces, scattering across the floor.

Cartman was left with his thoughts, a dented hotel wall, and a broken cell. He fucking hates South Park, that's why it's so easy to watch them burn. And burn they shall.


	4. Dinner Substitutes, Aka Beer

_"One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood." - Lucius Annaeus Seneca_

 

Kyle was putting away his clothing in his old bedroom when his mother called out from below, "Kyle, the food is ready!"

He paused for a moment, gauging how hungry he was before he finally settled on being peckish.

"Alright, Mum!"

Gone were his old posters and childhood toys, everything he associated this room with. His parents were quick to transform his room into just another guest bedroom, updated to the likeness of one of his mother's home decor magazine projects.

The dark blue paint from his youth was changed to a pistachio green, which only served to remind Kyle that his mother was nutty. And even the carpeting was ripped out, hardwood taking its place. It was startling how people don't stay the same and move on without you. Partially he wanted it to be the same, with his Terrance and Phillip memorabilia, and his old bed-frame that creaked if he slightly moved on it.

But his parents didn't care, and for all of their hassle in his current life, they adjusted fine to his absence. He hated this, being so forlorn and nostalgic. That same helpless drifting returned, like a scab that you couldn't help but pick at. And those blue eyes surfaced again, piercing his heart in a fatal swoop.

"Kyle, it's getting cold!"

He sighed as he glanced around his room.

"I'm coming, Mum!"

He saw no point in changing for a simple family dinner, despite it being the first one in years. The occasional holiday get-together not withstanding. So he wore jeans and a band shirt he had found in the back of his closet, which smelt of mothballs.

Bare feet stomped on their way down, announcing his arrival to the rest of his small family.

The plates were already set, leaving his father and Ike to patiently wait for him. His mother seemed to be getting something from the kitchen, most likely the finishing piece for the meal.

Kyle took his seat next to his younger brother, smiling as he met his gaze. The adopted Canadian looked superb, adjusting well to the stress of high school life.

Ike welcomed him with a contagious grin, "Hey, Kyle."

"Hey. How's school?"

"Great, I got 80% on my last test!"

Kyle politely smiled in response, shifting in his seat so he could pat his brother on the head. This quickly turned into a tousling of the hair.

Ike whined as he tried to get out of Kyle's grasp, "Stop, not the hair!"

Akin to his older brother, Ike was obsessed with how his hair appeared not only to himself, but to others. He even managed to convince their mother to purchase expensive hair products for him, and made sure his hair was constantly brushed back in a lazy, but elegant way.

Kyle eyed his brother's silky black locks, envious at how easy it was for Ike to tame it.

Sheila burst into the dining room, clutching a steaming pot of spaghetti. Whistling under her breath, she placed it on the table, mindful of the trivet underneath.

"Dinner is served!"

And with that, each member of the Broflovski family was eager to get their own plateful of pasta and eat away. The evening was chased away as everyone shared both new and old stories, while the majority of the conversation was focused on Kyle's new life. How the firm was going, if he made any new friends. The answer to the latter was a fleeting amount, and none of certain importance. And finally, if he found himself a partner yet.

Kyle took this for a male lover, but it was obvious that his mother meant a Jewish girl.

After an awkward bout of silence, Gerald took it upon himself to have the conversation going again.

"Well, just wait Kyle. You'll find yourself too busy with reminiscing with old friends, maybe the old gang will form again?"

"Yeah." Kyle mumbled with the thought, twirling his fork around his food. A lump arose in his throat, perhaps just as much from excitement as it was fear. Either way, Kyle had a feeling that tomorrow was going to be impressive, and would have a definite impact on his life.

* * *

"Look, man. I gotta go."

Kenny clicked his tongue in disapproval, his nose crinkling. "That's so lame, just stay for a couple more."

Stan passed his beer absently between his hands, liquid dangerously sloshing along the brim. He never meant to get a drink, but Kenny some how talked him into it. Maybe it was the nerves, he was getting seriously pumped up for this reunion. It wasn't the same when he was on the water, tracking the movement of a pod of whales, but it was similar.

"I'm not sure, I promised Wendy I wouldn't have anything."

"Wendy? You guys got back together, fucking finally." Kenny smirked, raising his bottle up, "Then cheers, to long overdue relationships!"

Stan hummed to that, face softening. "We're not serious or anything, well...we sort of are."

"Are you screwing?"

He cleared his throat, not quite wanting to make a comment on that. To his embarrassment he felt his ears heat up, much like his face.

"You are!" Kenny chortled, leaning back in his seat. "Shut up, Kenny." Stan hissed, rubbing at his face.

"Started without me?"

It was a plain rhetorical question, but it scared Stan witless. Flinching away from the smooth voice, Stan spilt beer down his shirt.

"Fuck!" Stan cursed, immediately rubbing at the wet spot. He was going to make himself look like an idiot in front of Wendy, a stupid drunkard.

"Money-bags!" Kenny called out, eyes glittering as he abruptly stood up.

_He's more drunk than I thought_ , Stan mused. And as he still wiped at his shirt, he tossed a look over to what had Kenny so excited.

"Fuck."

"Is that all you can say, Marsh?" Eric Cartman chuckled.

_Fuck..._

This wasn't the same boy from his youth, the curves he expected were gone. And man did he look good.

Eric snorted, dismissing the gawking hippie and turned his attention to Kenny. "What the fuck, I thought you'd wait for me?"

"I never said I would, money-bags." Kenny sighed, placidly sitting back on his seat. The leather squealed with his return.

"Shows your lack of manners. Move over."

"Says you." Kenny sneered, but still moved. Eric was buying him a round after-all, and he could assuredly afford it.

"So how's...er, sorry. What do you do?" Stan pitifully asked. Wow, he couldn't believe this was the same Eric.

"Kenny didn't tell you? I figured that'd be the first thing out of his mouth."

"I did, but not in much detail."

Cartman sighed, waving over a waitress. "A cold beer, doesn't matter what. Just as long as it's good." He eyed Kenny, waiting until the blonde shook his head and gestured to his half-full beer.

"Stan?"

"Um, no thanks." This is so fucking weird, Eric Cartman being actually polite for once. Man, he couldn't wrap his head around it.

"To answer your question, I'm a CEO of a couple of businesses." Cartman said, but only when a nice and cold beer was in hand.

"Is the money good?" Being a marine biologist didn't pay that well, but he was fine with that. He was really in it for the passion, which satisfied him at the end of the day. And he'd rather be poor and with Wendy in his bed than to be rich and lonely.

"Oh sure, I'm loaded. But the real issue is boredom."

"Boredom?" Kenny finally questioned, brow furrowed.

"Yeah, the business side is easy and everything. The only sore aspect is everyone begging for a slice, it can pick at someone, you know?"

Kenny and Stan nodded solemnly. They may never be as rich as Eric, but they understood greed. "No girlfriend?"

"Or boyfriend." Kenny whispered into his glass, careful so only Cartman heard. He wasn't sure if his sexuality was a taboo or not, and he didn't want to risk it. Not with the sense of intensity wafting off of the brunette.

"Nope." Cartman said, popping the p in the word. "But that won't be the case for long, not with my ability at having sex. Plus, I'm too busy for a commitment."

"That sucks, man. No one has your eye?"

"I fucked this tanned guy a couple of days ago, but no. Nothing legit."

Stan had decided to take a large gulp of his beer at that moment, and immediately spit it out. Bubbles both dwelled inside his nose, and burned it.

_So much for keeping it a secret_ , Kenny thought as he shook his head.

"You're gay?!" Stan choked out, alcohol dripping down the side of his face.

"Bisexual." Cartman corrected, taking a sip out of his own. "It's nothing important, Marsh. Why, interested?"

Forget earlier. Stan was now burning up like a fucking torch, surely enough to burn the bar to a smoldering crisp.

"Doesn't matter, you're not my type." Cartman said with a smirk, eyes roaming over Stan's body. Not caring that Stan was aware of this, he slowly rose his eyes to the pair of muddled blue.

He flashed him a toothy grin, the exact definition of a predator. Stan wasn't even gay, and yet he found himself frozen and...slightly aroused. Okay, maybe more than slightly.

"Didn't you have somewhere to go?"

_Oh shit. Wendy._

"I gotta go!" Stan exclaimed, thoughts solely on the woman waiting for him. "I'll see you later at the reunion!" he called over his shoulder, darting towards the exit.

"Idiot." Cartman rumbled under his breath, taking a lengthy sip from his beer. Haley was probably worried, wondering where he disappeared off to. If he got kidnapped, and if she needed to phone the police. She'd probably message him an ungodly amount, which he'd never get. He threw his broken cell into the trash, never to be used again.

His hand tightened around the glass.

"Hey."

He looked up, "What?"

Kenny took a minute before responding, wary of Cartman's facial expression.

"Are you okay?"

Cartman covered his guilt and anger up with a smirk, "Peachy."


	5. The Reunion

_"That's the fun of going to a high school reunion: it's seeing the people who you were close to all of those years ago, and re-exploring the relationships of the past." - Jon Hurwitz_

 

This is it...the big day.

Kyle eyed his reflection. He was ready. Today was important, but he didn't want to seem desperate. Especially if he did see... _him._

Wearing a fern green dress shirt, the cuffs were rolled up to his elbows. His gaze rose to his hair, looking like a mess as ever. A particular curl stood out, stretching out in the air towards the sun. He should have had a haircut before he came here.

"You look nice."

The red haired lawyer turned around, smiling at the sight of his younger brother. Ike leaned against the door frame, still in his pajamas.

"The Ninja Turtles, really?"

Ike scratched at his head, having yet to have a shower, "What? They're kick ass!"

That got him a chuckle, sibling wearing a questionable grin as he faced the mirror again. "I was always partial to Donatello myself."

"That's no big surprise."

Kyle hesitated, hand caught in between hair preening. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

They met each other's gaze through the mirror. Ike offered him a lazy smile, appearing like a sighing Casanova. "Forget about it, Mum wants you downstairs."

He groaned aloud, trying to pat down his hair. The russet curls just sprung back up, popping up with a vengeance. _Fan-fucking-tastic._

Giving up, Kyle followed his brother's lead and made his way down the stairs with a grimace. All the while, he questioned whether his mother was going to talk his ear off about finding a nice girl at the reunion, and how long that would take. He figured half an hour, but only if his father was there to cut it short. Unfortunately that ship had already sailed, and the older lawyer was safely at his firm. Away from his wife's insistent nagging.

"Kyle!" His mother whined, outright cringing at the sight of her son. Typical. And much like when he was in high-school, Sheila Broflovski found it incredibly important to inspect her child's appearance for any flaws. At least the shirt got a nod, his pants however, were a mere sin to behold.

" _Skinny jeans?"_  She hissed out, disgust marring her features.

He rolled his eyes, "Mum, relax. It's just a reunion, I'm not meeting anyone famous, like the president." Seriously, old age was making her be quite a handful.

"That's what you think. It starts out like that, and next thing you know, you're wearing sweatpants and living on the streets!"

Kyle sighed. "Mum, I know you care. But you need to relax, it's just clothing." he leaned down to give her a kiss to the forehead, "Now I have to leave before I'm late, I love you."

"I love you too, bubby." His mother mumbled, happy for now. Pacified with her child's affections, she shooed him out the door. Clicking her tongue in distaste at the thought of his tardiness, which had nothing to do with her ranting. Kyle climbed into his crappy car, stomach clenching as butterflies danced along its surface. This is it.

* * *

The first thing Kyle noticed when he entered his old high-school was the teen sitting by the front, bored and tapping away at her phone. Remembering his brother back home, he approached the improvised desk with a smile. It took her a minute before she actually unglued herself from the bit of technology, squinting at the shadow looming over her.

"Name?"

"Kyle. Kyle Broflovski."

Shaking blunt bangs away from her eyes, she pulled a stained book closer to her person. "How do you spell that?"

"Oh. B-r-o-f-l-o-v-s-k-i"

There was a pause as she read her way down the list until she eventually made it to the bottom, at that point she glanced back at him with a frown.

"You aren't on the list."

"...What?" This had to be some sick joke.

The young teenager huffed as she turned the book around for him to see, pointing at the surnames beginning with an 'o'.

"I don't know what to tell you, there isn't any 'ob' on here, sir."

It took Kyle a second to digest that, and slowly he managed to grit out a response.

"When I said 'o', I meant it as in ' _Oh_ , okay. I will now begin to tell you my last name'. Not the letter, alright?"

"...Then why didn't you say that in the beginning? You're here."

He heavily exhaled through his nose, calming his seething temper with a tense smile. "Thank you."

"No problem, but before you go.." she snatched up his left hand, stamping it hard in blue ink. Ignoring the pain, he ripped it away before heading inside. Acutely aware of the sneer she sent him.

Only led by the crudely made arrows that were plastered on the walls with glittery glue, Kyle made his way to the gymnasium. The first thing that hit him was the intense perfume and the noise, which sounded like a frat house picked up a record to appear both aloof and quirky.

"Kyle!"

He looked off to the side and found himself grinning at Leopold Scotch, or better known as Butters.

"Hey, Butters!" he greeted back, and was caught off guard by the immediate hug. Patting him awkwardly on the back, he was a lot more comfortable when the blonde finally released him.

"It's been so long!"

"Don't I know it." Kyle admitted, grin inching onto his face. "So, how are you?"

"Great! I stayed in South Park, which became a lot better. And I started my own dancing school, which is good."

"That's awesome! You look like things are going terrific for you."

Nodding, Butters gave him a look over, "Gosh, I can't believe I'm talking to you. I guess you went off to do something big and important, you went to university right?"

"Yep. I ended up in law and everything, I work at a firm back in Denver."

His company whistled in astonishment, "Cool. H-have you spoken to anyone else?" Kyle shook his head, feeling slightly pathetic.

"Well you should join us, Kenny is over there!"

Kyle's breath was caught in his throat. "He is?"

Butters smiled in response, and after grabbing his elbow, steered him towards a small group by the far right wall. And sure enough, there he was. Dressed in a pair of cut up jeans and an orange hoodie. Alongside him was Clyde Donovan, Token Black, and some guy that Kyle never spoke to.

And much like before, Kyle was pulled into an eager hug.

"Kyle!" Kenny exclaimed into his ear, fingers digging into his sides as he tried to bring him as close as possible. "I've missed you so much!"

"I missed you too." Kyle laughed, pulling away. It sucked, he really meant to keep in contact with all of his old friends. But being a lawyer was tough, and his time was spent by either working or going to bars to find himself someone.

He nodded at the other three guys, and stared a bit longer at Clyde. Well, at Clyde's t-shirt which said, **Sex Instructor: First Lesson Free**.

"Lovely." he muttered, not believing the lack of etiquette. Maybe his mother was right.

"So, Kyle."

He turned back to his childhood friend. "How's life?"

"Good. How about yourself?"

"Wonderful, but single."

"A pity." Kyle automatically replied, smile returning.

"Oh it is. Are you the same?"

Reluctantly he nodded, and glanced around the room. No sign of Stan yet.

"That sucks, but seriously what's with everyone? People are screwing anythin'."

"Is that so?"

Kenny gestured to the drink table; Kyle squinted against the dimmed lighting at two figures, Craig and Tweek. "Those two bastards are dating, and then there's Butters and Bebe."

"Wait, what?"

"Not officially, but they work together or something. Just like Stan and Wendy."

Kyle perked up, he felt like he was just slapped. Making sure that the other boys wandered off, no doubt bored with their conversation. He moved closer towards the blonde, whispering "You've talked to him recently?"

"Who, Stan?" His arms tingled. "Yeah."

"Yesterday, we had a couple of drinks. Okay, Stan had _one_. I swear the guy gets whipped at home by Wendy, he was completely begging to have her-"

"They're _dating?_ " he interrupted, breath coming out short and shallow.

"...Yeah? What, am I talking to a brick wall or something?"

"No I heard you, I just...Fuck."

"Are you okay, man?" Kenny's warm hand pressed into his shoulder, weighing him down. Or was that his heart? Either way he couldn't do this, he needed to be somewhere. Anywhere. Just...fuck...

"I'm, uh, fine." Shit, he was going to throw up. What was he going to say when he saw him?

"You don't look good..."

He was just about to reply, but struggled with the bitter taste that swelled in his throat. Before he could even manage to choke out a silly and useless excuse, a deep timbre cut him off.

"He can't help it, he's a Jew."

Feet moving on their own accord, they spun at the sound of Eric Cartman's voice. Any retort or witty comment he had was wiped away, as was any complaint he had of having to deal with Eric's shit.

True to his genetics, Eric towered over everyone in the room. That he expected, but not the fancy suit he was wearing. Dressed in a form fitted navy fabric, he looked like he had just gotten out of a business meeting and was ready to take over the world.

The bile in his throat was swallowed down, leaving his mouth to feel vacant and dry like a desert. Eric appeared to be saying something, but Kyle couldn't hear a word. Not with the blood that was rushing to his ears, throbbing like a drum.

_How can he wear something so expensive, and act nonchalant? Fuck, he made the whole room seem like it was filled with hobos._

The hand at his side was raised to his face, and Kyle followed that hand. Watched as it brushed a couple of loose strands of chestnut hair, moving to join his slicked back hair.

He jolted in surprise, startled when Kenny slapped at his arm. "Wha...?"

"I said, Stan is coming over."

Completely forgetting about either of the two, Kyle peered upwards. And there he was, cute smile on his face as he made his way over. Only, he was dragging Wendy by his hand. Any happiness he had was gone with that revelation, and only a sense of dread resided.

"Hippies." Eric swore under his breath, "I need a smoke." And with that, he was walking towards the exit.

"Wait!" Kyle hollered, alarmed as his attractive friend/enemy began to leave. He hated to admit it, but Kyle was much too of a chicken shit to face Stan. And so he left Kenny to take his place with the apparent love-birds.

Kyle had to fight his way through the dancing bodies of former students that cramped up the room, dodging elbows that threatened to jab him in the face or ribs. He was taller than most, a fact he always thanked his father silently for, but even he couldn't seem to look beyond the mass of writhing adults. His only saving grace was following Cartman's form, which wasn't hard to do, not with how it stood out against the others.

They finally ended up outside in the restricted parking lot, cool weather there to welcome them. Flushed with having to jog to keep up with Eric's long stride, Kyle fought to get himself back under control.

Reaching into his pocket, Eric withdrew a packet of cigarettes and a silver lighter. "Want one?"

Kyle shook his head, more keen to watch Eric's lips clamp around the recently lite cigarette and take a deep suck. Warmth scratching at his cheeks and throat, Kyle stared at less...arousing things. Like the plastic grocery bag that blew across the lot, dancing in the wind. That's when he realized how absurd this situation was, staying in the comfort of someone who he hated for so long. And for the right reasons, unjust prejudice, and countless acts that set him on edge. Now he was thinking about that same man, forcing him against his desk at the office. He shivered again, unsure about himself.

"So..."

His heart quaked at such a small and insignificant word.

"How have you been?"

 _Okay._ "Shitty." _H-he didn't mean to say that, but there it was._ A deep sound lolled beside him, and it took him a moment to realize it was Eric chuckling.

"I figured. You look like you haven't slept in weeks."

This was his chance to protest against these claims, to talk about his fantastic job and flat. But silence persisted, and Kyle was fine with that. It felt like he wasn't the only one to embrace that loneliness, and Eric was the same way. At least he wasn't married, Kyle had searched in vain for a gold band on his big fingers, but there was none.

He was glad. It wouldn't be fair if Eric had a partner, someone to share himself and his wealth with. Why should he, when Kyle didn't have that same right? He shivered again.

"Can you not afford a fucking coat?"

Kyle sucked in his breath, "Why?"

Eric snorted, "You're shaking like a leaf over there."

Kyle opened his mouth, but fabric covered the words. He whined as he pulled it away from his face, glaring at the younger man beside him.

Eric shrugged, "I don't want you to bitch."

Shifting his weight, Kyle put on the jacket. As soon as his coat was gone, Eric was left only in a white dress shirt. He was still big, but not like before. Fat was taken in exchange for muscle, but that didn't make him any less hefty. It was naturally his build, and it made Kyle feel even smaller when he put on the jacket. It was a couple of sizes too big for him, and his hands were lost in the fabric. But it was warm, and smelt of vanilla, smoke, and some musk that was both dark and irresistible.

Light headed, Kyle found himself sinking deeper into the jacket. He never wanted to take it off, he didn't care what anyone else said.

Clueless, Eric took another long drag. The smoke curled on his tongue and down his throat, before he exhaled. He watched as the grey tendrils disappeared into the sky, never to be seen again. "Why are you here?"

"Huh?"

Eric rolled his eyes, "Shouldn't you be socializing with the others, and not being with me? Last time I checked, you hated my guts."

The day-walker beside him clutched at his coat, looking both adorable and lost in it. Like a child playing dress up in his father's clothes. Not like he'd ever know. He took another drag from the cigarette, not stopping until his lungs begged for fresh oxygen. He released it all.

"I was, but it can get...depressing. What about you?"

"I don't want to be there when the shit hits the fan." Aware of the stare directed at him, Eric went on with a smirk, "Kenny and I put some LSD in the punch, things are going to get fucking amazing."

Kyle broke out into a laugh, ringing out in the empty space and it was completely genuine. Leave it to Eric to take such a mundane thing and make it a disaster, and he loved it. Not him necessarily, but something deep and hidden. Maybe it was the stress and hurt, but he wanted something strange to happen in his life.

After that he wasn't even taken aback when Eric pulled out a flask from the back of his pant's pocket. Surprisingly Eric offered it to him, perhaps because of the company he provided, and yet he accepted it. That's how they spent the next thirty minutes, each taking turns sipping until it was empty.

Which was a lot stronger than he expected, and he wasn't positive if it was that or the vanilla. _Was he being drugged on the scent of vanilla? Was that possible?_

But he kissed him. And he shoved his tongue down his throat, or was that Eric's? He didn't know, but that was fine because Eric was kissing him back with the same amount of desperation. And for once in his life, he didn't think about his job, family, or _him._


	6. Forget-Me-Not Flowers

_"A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing." - George Bernard Shaw_

 

The morning after was warm, but lacked the humidity of his own house. The old vents had a sort of liquid in them, so they made everything else feel foggy when you turned on the heating. Which was severely important in the colder months.

This heat, however, was like chocolate chip cookies right out of the oven. It was comforting, and Kyle enjoyed it immensely. He snuggled in closer to the fabric, wondering why he couldn't sleep like this always. Blinking against the sunlight, Kyle sighed aloud. Instead of disrupting the surreal silence of the room, instead the sound perfectly blended within. The fabric transformed into a large hand, fingers rough with untold labour. Stretched open, they slid along his rib cage, fingering the bones. And just like a xylophone, Kyle called out in bliss.

Lower back aching as he did so, Kyle followed that arm back to its owner.

Like all of his one-night stands, Kyle expected a certain shade of black hair when he awoke. Sometimes it was there, but it was the person underneath the hair he wanted. Sadly they were never him, no matter how hard he tried. And that only left them with awkward conversations, until they left his bed. Most offered their phone numbers in exchange for sex, but Kyle never called back. Either because of his pride or the promise he was holding out for someone else.

So when he awoke today, he was utterly astonished to see a familiar face blinking against the same crisp light. Instead of Stan it was a man who Kyle never thought of in any sexual regard before, Eric Cartman.

And the first thing out of his mouth was "Fuck."

Eric chuckled, withdrawing that hand splayed on Kyle's side to stretch. Immediately Kyle missed the extra warmth, it felt like a large and secure blanket.

"That's what we did." Eric mumbled through a yawn, half of the words were indistinguishable.

Gauging what he said, Kyle's eyes widened and he scooted as far away as the bed would allow. Even in a king sized bed, Eric took up a good portion of the space and made Kyle's attempt foolish and futile.

"I..." he didn't know what to say, any possible bit of conversation was gone from his person. Thoughts and questions were plentiful. _Why couldn't he remember it? Was it...was he good?_ Never before was he self conscious about his abilities, but that measuring and weighing look in Eric's eyes had him re-evaluating everything.

"Where are we?" he settled with. It was obviously a bedroom, something done to modern standards. Everything about it screamed business, with its bulky desk in the corner, to the navy blue stripes that went well with the white undertones of everything.

"My hotel room." Eric answered, and once again Kyle found himself eyeing the man beside him.

Unlike yesterday, Eric's slicked back hair was ruffled to a more natural state. He sort of hoped that the brunette's hair would look crumpled and hideous, something to boost Kyle's self-esteem. But like everything else in Kyle's life, it was the exact opposite. The chestnut locks were messily tousled, much like how Ike's were, but in a mature way that his brother lacked. But Eric always did have nice hair, or from what Kyle could remember.

Speaking of which, either unaware or just confident with his body, Eric ran his fingers through his hair before he climbed out of bed. And much like what he blatantly said before, Eric's light ivory skin flashed before Kyle's eyes as he made his way over to the desk. Only to reveal he wasn't naked, but dressed in a nice pair of black boxer briefs. Heart pounding in his ears, Kyle flushed with both lust and disappointment.

"You're not naked."

Eric grabbed the hotel's landline telephone before he graced the confused lawyer with an actual reply, "Obviously, people come in and out of here like it's a revolving door. That, and I need to prepare if I have to make a dash for it."

He punched in a few numbers as Kyle digested that, only to be welcomed with a few rings.

Kyle blinked. "Wait, why would you need to run? Are you scamming this place or something?!"

Eric shot him a glare, "Don't say shit like that so loud, you idiot! And to answer your fucking question, it's probably because you were annoying all of the other customers."

"Annoying them?"

"Who wouldn't be? With your loud moaning last night. Are you sure you aren't in any gay porno there, _Kahl?_ 'Cause last night was-You have five minutes."

Frowning as Eric broke away from their discussion to hiss that last bit into the phone, he was even more startled when Eric slammed the receiver back down. Right. For a moment he forgot who he was dealing with. With his legs rubbing against the silken bed sheets, Kyle glowered against the sun's rays.

"First of all, they should be used to it. So they can go fuck themselves. And secondly, no. Not even in your most messed up dreams."

"I don't have to dream, I lived it." Eric cackled, "Remember? Last night?"

Kyle gripped the sheets hard and was sorely tempted to scream at Eric until his voice was hoarse. More so than it was already. But that pleasant ache throbbed again, reminding that they did have sex last night. And as far as he could recall, from hazy whispers and biting touches, it was fucking amazing. Well, Eric was. All Kyle could remember was reacting and laying back to take it all in.

Still, Eric didn't need to know that. And that it was the best he's had so far, but the other hotel occupants already knew that.

Just then, the door opened.

Yanking up the sheets until they were underneath his chin, Kyle dreadfully wished to be anywhere else. More so, when the woman in the door frame glared at him to her heart's content. His first rational thought was that their visitor was one of the staff members, ready to complain about the previous noise. And fuck, Eric would knock her ass over and make a run for it, leaving him to explain and pay for it all. That bastard.

"Haley." Eric addressed the angry woman, not caring that he was practically naked in front of her. She looked away from Kyle, which he was thankful for.

"Yes, sir?"

"Did you get it?" She nodded, handing over a glossy and fresh phone to Eric's out stretched palm.

"Thank you." he mumbled, flipping it over to look at the device at every possible angle. Satisfied, he rewarded the young woman with a fleeting smile that had one of her own dancing on her face.

"Sir, if I may?"

Eric yawned once again before giving Haley a curt nod of approval. Leaving the two alone, he headed over to the joined bathroom. Against the sound of the sink turning on, Haley loudly continued their conversation, never once moving a mere inch from her place.

"You have two meetings, one with that mining company, in about half an hour. And Mr. McCormick has been trying to get a hold of you, much like the hotel's staff who have certain...complaints." She directed that last bit at Kyle, hostile attitude returning full swing.

The tap turned off. "Fucking lovely, tell 'em I'll be there. And I'll deal with Kenny myself." He popped inside the bedroom, the fresh scent of mint in the air, "Did you tell 'em to fuck off?"

"Always, sir."

"Good. Now get the hell out of here!" Glad to see the blonde scamper away, Kyle eyed his one-night stand apprehensively.

"That goes for you too, Jew."

Sizzling with that same hurt, Kyle checked to see if he was wearing any underwear-which he wasn't, before he climbed out of bed. Immediately he missed the warmth that blocked his body from Eric's appraising eyes, which seemed content with this shift.

"You're such an asshole."

"Yeah, I know." Eric replied with a sneer, rolling his eyes. "Now hurry up, your Mummy is probably worried."

The thing is, he was right. She'd be frantic by now, clawing and screaming at anyone who would listen. Without a word, Kyle began to search for his clothing. But the floor was spotless... _Shit._

Suddenly a hand was pressed against his spine, and Kyle shivered. "I got Haley to wash 'em, I know how tidy you can be. They're in the dresser."

"Thanks." he had mumbled. That hand lowered to his ass, leaving only to give it a loud slap that shook Kyle, and sunk right into his core.

"Don't mention it, Jew."

Then Eric went off to the bathroom again, locking the door to have a shower. That was it, so Kyle quickly rummaged until he found his clothes in the bottom drawer and dressed before the desire to stay became too much.

Ever the gentleman, Eric left Kyle no means to return home. So Kyle had to make the tiresome walk to the car he left at the high-school's parking lot, which was across town. Feet crying out for mercy, Kyle hastily opened his car and slid inside.

"Holy shit." he swore, finally seeing himself in the car's mirror. His whole neck was littered in hickeys, making him look like he was stained from blueberries. And Eric had let him walk through town like this. Stewing in the scent of vanilla, smoke, and the musk of Eric fucking Cartman, Kyle made the long drive to his parent's home.

Making sure to do up his collar up high to mask the evidence, Kyle turned off and locked his car. After taking a few steadying breaths, trying his hardest to ignore that scent that seemed to mock him, Kyle climbed out of his vehicle and headed inside. And just as he expected, he was immediately assaulted by the sound of his mother crying out his name. Hitting him at full force, she clutched at his shirt without any resolve of letting go.

He winced as she hit a certain patch of bruises on his back, leave it to Eric to cover all of his grounds.

"I was so worried, Kyle! We've been so worried, and neither your brother or father would comfort me!"

"I'm sorry, Mum. I spent the night at an old friend's, and forgot to call." Which wasn't a complete lie. But instead of spending the night talking and reminiscing like what his mother most likely thought of, he had spent the night getting happily fucked.

Something dawned on him, "Wait, who's here?"

"Oh, I completely forgot!" His mother eagerly ushered him into their living room, "Stan is here to see you!"

And sure enough, there he was, sitting awkwardly on his parent's couch. "Hey, Kyle." he said with a shy wave, smiling.

**Fuck**...


	7. Oh, Mother Dearest: Part One

_"Our mothers always remain the strangest, craziest people we've ever met." - Marguerite Duras_

 

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

That was the first sentence that came out of his mouth, and rightfully so it caused a chain reaction. Stan became flushed in embarrassment, while his mother looked like she was going to have a full fledged heart-attack. _Good job, Kyle. Good job..._

"Kyle!" his mother screamed, face turning a startling shade of red. Honestly he just wanted to go home, to climb into his spacious bed and fall asleep forever. That is, if his mother didn't kill him first.

"I-I'll just go." Stan finally said after a few tense seconds, awkwardly rising to his feet. Kyle watched as he walked towards the door, when suddenly he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Wait!" Blindly he snatched up the sleeve to Stan's shirt, fingers digging in. He had to fix this, fix... _them._

He shot his mother a begging glance. She still looked pissed, but thankfully she understood. Muttering under her breath, particularly about getting too old for this and grandchildren, she stormed upstairs.

"I'm sorry, can we start again?"

Stan turned around, blue eyes open like a summertime sky. "I've missed you, Kyle."

Immediately his face burned with desire, guilt, and discomfiture. _Oh, Stan._

* * *

Cartman sighed loudly, "What?"

"Nothing, sir. Nothing at all..."

" _Haley._ " he warned, eyeing the assistant that sat across from him. Her muddy brown eyes shifted away from his, not wanting to make contact.

_1...2...3...4.._ "Alright!" she finally broke, "I can't stand it!"

Rolling his eyes at Haley's outburst, he dug his frame deeper into the car seat. Might as well get comfortable, surely she'd take forever to talk his ear off.

"I don't like him."

Scratching at the side of his face, he'd need to shave again, Cartman hummed in disinterest. "Who?"

Groaning at the lack of response, Haley chewed on the inside of her cheek, "The ginger! You know, Keith."

"Haley, we both know you know his name."

"Kyle, whatever! I don't like him!"

Fuck it still being morning, he needed a drink. He reached into the mini-bar to his side, hand cooling as he grabbed a chilled bottle of rum. The seated blonde huffed as her employer became distracted, and was much too tired to complain about the time of day he drank.

She ripped the bottle from his grip and withdrew a can of coke from the same mini-bar. While she began to make his drink, she watched Eric through narrowed eyes.

"And you always said, never mix pleasure with business." she mumbled under her breath, chest squeezing painfully with the scarred wound.

"...First of all, he isn't a ginger. Day-walker, Haley. _Day-walker_. Secondly, we aren't working together and quit acting like I'm going to marry the guy. It was sex, that's it. And lastly, do we seriously need to be having this discussion again? I'm already balls deep in shit right now, and you aren't really helping."

Battling the automatic "I'm sorry, sir", Haley pressed the recently made drink into Cartman's grasp, wary when her hand was left wet from the sweating cup.

"It will be soon, the union to that mining company will be hiring a legal firm. Apparently the members don't like the fact that the business will be switching hands, especially to a younger man. Lucky for you, Mr. Broflovski will be part of that same team."

Cartman took a large gulp from his icy beverage with the revelation, already a muted buzz was there to greet him. He should have known things would get messy when he met Kyle, or fucked him to oblivion.

"The bearer of good news as always, Haley. So..." he paused with another sip, "you couldn't resist gathering info, hm?"

A blush was quick to work its way onto the usually composed woman's face, marring her beauty when it flashed with shame and anger.

"What did you expect of me, sir? You can't trust a man with cheekbones as sharp as those! They should be classified as a weapon, you could stab someone with them!" she loudly proclaimed, becoming more and more flustered as those eyes focused on her.

If only they eased up on their dissection and turned into a loving gaze, then she'd be happy.

But as of late she was limited to cleaning up after his flings, which seemingly ranged in shape and size on his whim that instance. Sadly she wasn't one of them, and she doubted she'd ever would be. Not if that... _day-walker_ got in the way. Eric T. Cartman was a passionate man, but in bed he left his partners to do all of the work. Not that he wasn't good, it was just that he lacked the ferocity he usually held.

Kyle Broflovski had screwed everything up, because when they shared that night together...Something Haley could only recall in disgust, Eric was the exact opposite of his usual self. She was sure that everyone in the hotel and down the street heard the commotion, and going by the messages she received, they did. Some didn't mind, but the families with younger children did.

For a hotel claiming to be the best in their district, they sure did have paper-thin walls. If only it was her...

That one night, filled with heartbreak and cheap drinks might not have meant anything to him. But to Haley it was the beginning of a relationship, one filled with affection, deep conversations, and overall comfort(luxury).

"Haley, you're a real crazy bimbo."

Inwardly she winced at the joined chuckle, but she forced a smile of her own, "Er-thanks, sir."

"Anytime."

Glancing over her shoulder towards the driver's tinted glass, Haley hummed as her ear piece buzzed with a expectant update.

"Five minutes until we arrive."

* * *

"I didn't really get to see you at the reunion, man."

"I know," Kyle shook his head, "I'm sorry, but I spent my time with Eri-Cartman."

Stan furrowed his brow, "Wendy wanted to see you too."

_Well, I don't give a shit what Wendy wants._ "That's too bad, but I sort of felt obligated, you know?"

Clearly confused, Stan curtly shook his head. Kyle sighed, leaning back on his parent's couch. This is not what he imagined today would be like, sitting in his childhood living room and talking about Kyle's latest one-night stand.

The thing is, he hoped it'd be more then one night. Nothing exclusive, just a distraction from the beautiful man beside him. Only Stan didn't know anything about the sex. God, he hoped he never did find out.

"Cartman and I...we've always had this thing, a understanding. I felt like I had to talk to him, to move on."

"He did pull a lot of shit on you...on us." Stan admitted, rubbing at his eyes. He had bags under them, maybe he had insomnia too.

_Or maybe he's too busy to sleep with Wendy su-_

"Exactly." Kyle agreed, sounding a little too chipper to his own ears. Fake.

"Well I guess I can say this, you look good. And I mean it, man. But so does anyone that get's laid."

"Um, what?"

Stan held out his hands in front of himself, almost as he was shielding his person. "Relax. I'm not going to scream it out to the rooftops, but you should tell them to ease up next time. Looks like you were attacked by some horny vampires. But hey, must have been one hell of a night."

Blushing with sheer horror coursing through his veins, Kyle felt at his neck.

Shit, the collar must have slipped down, did his mother see too? Stan was bad enough. And all because of Eric fucking Cartman!

"It's cool, I don't think your mom saw." Stan laughed, guessing the thought racing through the red head's frantic mind. "I didn't come here to delve into you getting some action, so do you want to talk later? At a bar or something?"

Kyle couldn't have nodded faster, happy to get out of this situation.

"Right, my number is still the same. So text me later, and please wear a turtleneck or something."

The two climbed to their feet, offering each other an awkward handshake before Kyle walked Stan off onto the front porch.

After saying goodbye to his crush, Kyle locked the door behind Stan and bolted up the stairs. Safe in the bathroom, he quickly turned on the shower.

All he could smell now was vanilla, smoke, and that musk from before. Angrily he ripped his shirt off, not caring when a few of the buttons popped.

Fiddling with the heat to the water, Kyle finally saw it as he glanced to the mirror above the sink. Not the hickeys, he expected those. But the numbers on his back, written in permanent marker. Immediately he recognized the lazy but charismatic scrawl, it was Eric Cartman's phone number.

And following it, was a little note:

_Call me when you're ready for round 2._

_\- Eric C._

When did he...? And why in the fuck couldn't he remember Cartman writing on his back!?


	8. Oh, Mother Dearest: Part Two

_"My mother had a great deal of trouble with me, but I think she enjoyed it." - Mark Twain_

 

Eric frowned at the reflection glaring at him, his own. Like always, he looked like he was trying too hard. Despite how often he worked out, or preened himself, he was a big loser.

_A fatass._

The door swung open, taking his image away.

"My baby!"

Eric winced as he was sucked up in a tight hug, arms as strong as steel wrapped around his sides. He struggled to pull her off of him, but each shove was futile.

"Mom!" he groaned, cheeks warming at the sound of Haley laughing from the parked car.

He should really fire her, maybe that would wipe the smirk off of her face.

"Just look at you, 'hun! You're all skin and bones!" and the next moment Eric was herded inside his old house.

"But who did you come with?" his mother giggled, eyeing the blonde that slipped in after the pair.

"Mom," Eric sighed, "this is Haley. She's my personal assistant that oversees boring aspects in my regular life, and maintaining my schedule."

"She's pretty."

"That's why he picked me." Haley joked, but it came out strained and bitter.

"Hm." Liane released her grip on her son. "Let me be the judge of that."

And true to her word, Liane Cartman circled around the young woman, face as stony as one of the mountains in the distance. Unlike the rest of her generation, she was treated well with age. She had a few grey hairs here and there, but they were pulled back in a fashionable bun, intricate and neat.

It alluded a sense of class, that the mother lacked throughout Eric's childhood. The mother he knew spent the mornings in bed watching her soaps in a house-coat, and would drink her troubles away with fruity wine coolers.

Not much changed with that growing up, but Eric had to face the world alone. To make his pay and actually keep the cheque without fear of it being spent behind his back. To do that he had to cut ties with his mother, until now.

"She's a cutie, I'll give her that. Just not as cute as I was, I could really turn some heads in my day. And I still can!" Liane ended with a dainty laugh, waving off the glare Haley sent her.

"I'm kiddin', hun!"

_Leave it to my mother to upset any girl I bring home, not even a minute in the door_ , Cartman thought with a roll of his eyes.

"Are we going to talk or what?"

"Oh sure! I'll put something on for you to eat. We can have a chat in the living room, pumpkin." And just like that his mother was back to hanging off of him, ushering her tower of a son into the joined room.

"That won't be necessary, Ms. Cartman. I already prepared a meal for him today." Haley hurriedly said as she followed after them, glaring at the back of the older woman's head.

"That's sweet, but I know what Eric likes. And he prefers things made well done, something that was put together with thought. Okay, 'hun?"

An awkward bout of silence followed after that, leaving Haley to stand in the door-frame as Eric was seated on the well used couch.

It was bizarre, Eric sitting in the room. He had described his life to her, but to see it now was quite a contrast. The effect was doubled by the grey suit he wore, much too expensive to be used in a simple area. She hated it here, it seems that the abnormal habits the town had were gone when Eric's friends grew up. And if that was so, the sleepy town then had no use for her. She'd much rather go back to her home, empty but clean with her tiresome work.

You had to live in success, to be prepared for it.

No, she wouldn't be pushed around. Giving a sound stomp in defiance(which startled her boss), Haley headed off to the kitchen. Inside she found Eric's mother humming as she made her son lunch.

A standard sandwich with extra layers of sizzling bacon, with a bowl filled with Cheesy Poofs, and a large cup with pop. The exact type of meal that Eric struggled to get rid of, and Liane was undoing all of that work.

"Ms. Cartman," Haley greeted once more, nose twitching at the heavy scent of artificial cheese in the air. She waited until that barely wrinkled face met her own, "he won't eat that."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yes, he prefers something lighter to settle easily in his stomach. He runs a busy life."

Liane clipped the Cheesy Poofs bag shut with a clamp, then she stepped away from the counter. "Listen here, 'hun. Eric is my child, so I won't be pushed around by a common tramp."

"Excuse me?!"

"And that bad haircut isn't helping. I'm the only woman in Eric's life, so butt out." she hissed, before donning a friendly smile.

"Lunch is ready, pumpkin!" Liane sung, bringing out the meal to her only child.

Eric glanced to see his mother's excited face, arms filled with...lunch. Haley was right behind her, looking not happy in the least.

"Mom, set that down." he grumbled, taking the plate away and setting it on the coffee table. Liane peered at Haley from the corner of her eye, before she sat next to her son. Suddenly there was no more room on the couch, just like when he was younger. Or did the couch just get smaller?

"I need your help."

"I thought you said that you didn't need money?" Liane pouted. "Well let me grab my purse."

Sighing, Eric gripped his mother's arm, preventing her from getting up.

"I don't need money, Mom. Just..." Liane still remained ready to rush over to her purse. "Will you just listen to me, for one second?!"

His harsh voice had the two women in the room flinching, eyes widening in apprehension towards Eric. Palming his eyes with the heel to his hands, Eric groaned. Was everyone going to be an idiot? Was this his personal hell?

"Look..." he started again, quieter this time. "I just need a list of the men or women you've... _serviced_ , not all of them." he added, particularly when his mother's mouth opened in protest. "Just the ones working with the mining company, I plan on taking it over."

Mulling the words over, his mother hesitated before staring dead on at him. "Alright, but I don't want this blowing up."

"Thanks, Mom. Haley give her my number."

Reaching into her pocket for a business card, the blonde glowered as she handed it over. Her mouth felt like she had bitten into a lemon to the rind, utterly disgusting.

Leaning downwards, Eric briefly kissed his mother on the forehead. With the sultry scent of perfume covering his senses, he left his mother without a goodbye. And certainly didn't reply to the calls his mother yelled out after him.

"Sir, where are you going?" Haley inquired, bumbling after his shadow.

"To a bar."

Haley snorted, "But you just had a drink!"

"Yeah, but it wasn't enough to get me drunk. Take the night off, Haley."

With the sun darkening, Eric walked alone into the orange evening. Even with the still freshness of the day, the stars begun to peek downwards on South Park. But it held no beauty for the brunette, it only cemented the cold reality of everything.

Of the knowledge of his mother's work, and the struggles with his own.

And more importantly, his hatred of this town.


	9. Blue Cat Galore

" _Gambling can turn into a dangerous two-way street when you least expect it. Weird things happen suddenly, and your life can go all to pieces." - Hunter S. Thompson_

 

Kyle scratched at his red curls, a frown prominent on his features. For the third time in the last twenty minutes, he glanced downwards at his phone. More precisely, the text he had just received from Stan.

**Sorry man, I have to bail. Wendy isn't feeling well. Can we do this another time?**

Being the lovesick fool that he was, he had responded with, **Sure, send her my love.**

Great, now he had to stick around this bar. Getting drunk alone.

In order to drown his sorrows, Kyle took a rather large gulp from his martini. The crisp and dry taste highlighted by the lemon twist that garnished his glass, the only bit of colour in his life right now.

A shadow suddenly blocked his view to his glass, making the blue lights turn into a deep and swirling shade of navy.

Offhandedly, Kyle peered over his shoulder.

"You have got to be kidding me," he groaned, "what are you doing here?!"

Sitting at the stool next to the redhead, Eric sniffed, "Oh, I love you too."

Waving a large hand towards the bartender, he mumbled "Whiskey on the rocks" before turning back to his childhood rival.

"What the fuck are you wearing? I know you're gay, Kyle. But that's no reason to act the part." He said as he gestured to the brown and snug turtleneck his companion wore, seriously what the actual fuck?

Blushing with anger, Kyle took another sip from his drink. The corners of his mind were already becoming foggy with a buzz, swinging lightly to the jazz music that played in the background. A bar that Kyle didn't expect Stan to suggest, no doubt thinking of sport themed pubs at the time. This one was actually sophisticated...Not that Stan wasn't! He just..

"Shit." Kyle mumbled, giving his head a good shake.

"Are you okay? Sure you're not trapped in the 70's or something?"

Startled by the actual concern in Eric's voice, Kyle steadily focused on him. Trying his hardest to see if he actually meant it, or this was another ploy.

Unable to get a read on him, and the beginnings of a churning in his gut, Kyle looked away. Without realizing it, he had downed his drink.

"Another!" He called out to the bartender, adjusting himself on his stool.

_What the hell is this made out of?_ Kyle moodily thought to himself, the cushion was hard as rocks.

"Stan isn't coming."

Eric sipped from his glass, making it look impossibly small with his large hands. Like a giant trying to fit in.

"I could have told you that." Eric chuckled, but without any of the happiness it was meant to have.

"How?"

Eric squinted at him, "You would have thought that a hippie could handle itself better."

Kyle glared, "Fuck off, can you not be an asshole for one second? How did you know Stan wasn't coming, you... you could have spared me all of this."

"I was being serious. Calm down, Jewboy. I knew Stan wouldn't show up, not because I wanted to stop your little date. Trust me, I didn't know and didn't care. But at the reunion..." Eric paused before he leaned towards Kyle, and despite himself, Kyle moved in closer to hear better.

A shiver slid down his spine as Eric's hot breath brushed against the side of his face and neck; the scent of vanilla, smoke, and musk was present again.

"Wendy was feeling thirsty at the reunion, so she had a lot of cups of punch."

Proud of himself, Eric returned to his original position with a smirk. Already finishing half of his drink without a care, or any effect.

Kyle chewed his bottom lip at the gap between them now, and half wished that Eric would move in closer. Even to whisper some useless shit.

"Oh."

"Speaking of dates, that guy in the leather jacket is leering at you."

"What guy?" Kyle stiffened as he followed Eric's gaze, and there he was. Appearing as if he was in his mid thirties, the man was wearing a thin leather jacket despite the onslaught of cold they've been having.

Any homophobic slur that he expected was non-existent, and in its place was a flirty wink that was directed at him.

"You want to make a bet?"

Finally Kyle looked away, comparing the differences between the stranger and Eric. While the man was cute in a make-out session in the backseat of his car sort of way, Eric had matured in a way that was similar to the whiskey he drank.

While his face was still youthful without any signs of wrinkles, that cold and calculating edge he had wasn't worn down. In fact, he seemed to be measuring the man that sat across from him.

"What kind of bet?"

Finally seeing Eric's glare, the man jumped before hurriedly turning back to his beer.

"To see if you can get his number."

"Why?" Kyle scoffed, unsure if he heard that correctly.

"Just to see if you can get some in that awful outfit."

"It's not that bad! And why would I? What do I win?"

Pondering the potential price, Eric drank the rest of his beverage in one mouthful before he finally said, "A blowjob."

Kyle sputtered, his face burning like the sun that was setting.

Unconcerned, the brunette continued on through, "Now, if I win... You have to go on a date with me, of my choosing. Meaning none of your bitching, and you have to tell Stan about it."

He couldn't believe he was actually considering this, "And all I have to do is get that guy's phone number?"

"Yep."

"Fine, you better do some mouth exercises until I get back."

With his latest martini burning the blood that coursed through his veins, Kyle slowly made his way over to the man in leather. Constantly aware of the set of eyes that seemed to follow all of his movements, he tried to appear dignified and confident as he slid in beside him.

"Hey." he greeted, smiling brightly at the man to his side. "I noticed you staring at me, and well, can I have your number?"

Looking behind him, surely at Eric, the man offered him that same smile. "Just a number, and not anything else?"

A cool hand was placed on his knee, sliding along to his thigh. Kyle was caught between the desire to either throw up, or to punch his upturned nose. Either way, he bottled it up inside and calmly grinned at the attention.

"Yeah, but who knows." he laughed, eyelashes lowering as he gave the man a coy glance.

That hand inched closer, like thorny vines ready to strangle. But the man's free hand plucked a napkin from the bar counter, "I like you, baby."

And as he grabbed a pen from one of his many pockets, the man hunched over the napkin to begin writing a series of numbers.

With a triumphant grin on his face, Kyle shot Eric a smirk. But for whatever reason he didn't seem fazed, and licked at his lips with a wink.

"What the hell are you doin', Benny?"

Kyle turned away, shock pushing the air from his lungs. A woman in a tight cocktail dress snarled at the man dressed in leather, painted lips a glossy line of disapproval. "Pooh, this ain't what it looks like!" he pleaded, pushing the napkin into Kyle's unsuspecting hands.

"Really, cause it don't look like nuthin'. Whose this douche bag, huh?" she snapped, pointing a sharp hot pink nail in Kyle's direction.

"Nobody, pooh! A...a fag, he was comin' onto me!"

Kyle gave a snort topped with loathing, "A fag, really? You know people like you are why homosexuals stay in the closet, because you're too busy being ashamed of your sexuality. So you take it out on others." Standing up, he gave the middle finger to the man before he headed back to his stool. Not caring in the least of the argument he left behind, in particular the woman pouring her drink on her boyfriend, Benny.

He slammed the napkin on the counter, before he grumbled "Another martini, give it an extra kick" to the blinking staff member behind the shiny surface.

"I guess you won." he sighed, rubbing at his still warm face.

"Nah, it was a tie." Eric said with a tuneless hum, giving his glass a little toss. Kyle stared at the clinking ice cubes for a moment, before he broke out of his spell.

"What?" He croaked, feeling too tired and confused to keep up. _Where's some Advil when you need it?_

Eric peeled the napkin from the counter before he showed it to him, "Your friend didn't finish his phone number, he got half way. So we both technically win."

"So...?"

"So, you go on a date with me but you don't tell Stan about it. Unless you truly want to. Now c'mon."

Kyle blinked as the bartender set his martini in front of him, "Wait, where?"

Climbing off his stool, Eric rose a brow at him, "The bathrooms, where else would we be going? Unless you want to do this in city hall?"

He didn't even wait for him, starting to head towards the exit.

Cursing under his breath, Kyle dug out some cash and put it on the counter before racing off after him.

* * *

Kyle refused to go to the bathrooms, fearful that some drunkard would walk in on them. So the pair found themselves outside of Le Bleu Chat, tucked away in the gritty corner of the alleyway.

"Are you sure no one will see us?" Kyle whispered, wary when Eric knelt before him. The grey trousers he wore immediately darkened with the grim coating the floor, and Kyle almost felt bad about it.

Almost, if it weren't for the excitement and suspense wounding him tight. Frowning at the lack of response, Kyle took a step backwards, head thunking as it made contact with the brick wall of the building. "You don't have to do this." Kyle mumbled, unable to stare into those dark eyes.

"I know," Eric said at last, "I never do something I don't want to do. Not if I can help it."

_ZZzziippp_

Cautious of what to do with his hands, Kyle rubbed them together as the wind began to pick up. This wasn't his first time doing this, but for whatever reason Eric had him blushing like a virgin. And he hadn't even pulled him out yet, fine with focusing on every shift of his face. A saucy smirk tainted his features when he finally did, warm hand causing Kyle to yelp in shock.

"Shut up! Someone might hear us!" He hissed at Eric's laughter, dancing lowly with the shadows that mingled around them. He was grateful when his snickers became muted, but only because he favoured opening his mouth.

Kyle groaned, eyelids lowering at the feeling of the hot and moist cavern that was Eric's mouth. Unclenching his hands, he dropped one to Eric's brown locks. As he hoped they'd be, they were silky to the touch, and were a lot easier to run fingers through.

Biting his bottom lip, Kyle took great delight in ruffling it up. But still the strands messily fell around Eric's unblinking eyes, unimaginably sexy.

Randomly Eric alternated between gentle and strong sucks, tongue stroking the underside. Each brush had the redhead standing above him breathing heavily through parted lips, barely thinking about the sounds he made and whether anyone would hear them. Gripping the tan skin that was revealed when Kyle's jeans began to slip downwards, Eric held him back from thrusting into his mouth as he popped off.

A touch breathless, his eyes narrowed with amusement as he considered their surroundings, and the usually pretentious Kyle Broflovski.

"So," he started, casually pumping with his right hand, "what are you hungry for?"

Clearing his throat to appear like Eric wasn't affecting him as much as he was, Kyle knitted his brows together in concentration.

"Hungry for what?" He whined, watching as Eric's pink tongue lapped at a throbbing vein.

"The dinner, _remember?"_

"Ahh... Aren't you p-picking?"

Moving in closer to kiss along the flushed skin, Eric groaned in exasperation. "Of course I am, but I'm trying to be polite. And don't worry, Jew, I'm paying."

Lightly swinging his hips, Kyle aimed for the larger man's mouth, nudging it. And ever the gentleman, Eric opened up.

"Anything you want." Kyle whimpered, digging his nails into that lovely chestnut locks. "J-just don't stop..."

Smiling around him, Eric held his gaze as his mouth widened. And with snowflakes just starting to fall from the heavens, a change that arrived earlier then it was broadcasted, Eric bobbed faster.

Kyle closed his eyes, still able to hear the piano playing in the background. Aware that those dark chocolate irides were categorizing everything he did, he let go. With a few weak thrusts, Kyle sighed as pleasure had him lifting himself onto the tips of toes.

Silently Eric followed the movements, suckling until the other rode an orgasm that had him gasping for air with trembling fingers.

Swallowing every last pearly drop, Eric gave the once weeping slit a kiss before he got up. Frowning when the effort became troublesome, especially since his trousers were tighter than usual and covered in dirt and who knows what else.

Reluctantly Kyle settled back down, legs giving an occasional twitch as his hands dropped from Eric's hair. They fell to his shoulders, where they gave the broad set a squeeze.

"T-thanks."

"No, thank you." Eric whispered back, making a point to lick his lips again. Kyle cleared his throat, lump caught in the back. Suddenly he was reminded of the cold, and pulled himself in.

_Zziiipp_

"Let's head out." The taller of the two sung, jacket dusted with snowflakes. As they escaped the darkness of the alleyway, they were greeted by the light of the town. Much like the streetlamps that adorned the streets, the stars overhead brightened their world.

"I hope you don't mind Italian."

"Nope." Kyle replied with a smile and a blush, especially when Eric said, "Perfect."

Either was willing to blame it on the lack of glow that the lamps gave off, but at that moment their hands brushed one another. And secretly neither minded it.


	10. A Snack Of Tongues

**Author's Note: Hello everyone, Claire here! So I've moved and finished a large story, that honestly took a lot of my time up. Which may bore you, but that just means that I can now focus on this story and have it done. The chapter below is short, but don't worry. After this I'll be returning to a regular posting schedule, so look forward to that. M'kay?**

 

* * *

 

 

 

_"Pursuit and seduction are the essence of sexuality. It's part of the sizzle." - Camille Paglia_

 

"Hello?" Haley yawned, rubbing at the creases of her eyes. The deep voice on the other side had her perking up in surprise, and a rumble of relief in her tone.

"Haley, can you track my location?"

"Yes, sir. Why are you in trouble, should I call Greg?" Already she was reaching for her other phone, thumbing through the numbers.

"No, I need it so you can tell me of any restaurants in my area."

For an instance she was calmed by his apparent safety, but new questions began to surface. With a mask of neutrality, she continued on, "Any preferences?"

"Italian."

"Alright, are you eating alone?" She tried to keep the contempt out of her voice, but the sigh he responded with showed that she failed the attempt.

"Haley, we talked about this."

"No, it's fine. I'm just trying to do my job." She gave a silly laugh. "Like I'm supposed to do."

* * *

Eric grunted, face becoming distraught. The switch in his good mood worried Kyle, and so he placed a hand on the brunette's arm.

Sparing him a glance, Eric smiled in a way he hoped would ease any concerns he had. It didn't work so well, Kyle frowned even harder.

"Haley, I promise we'll talk when I get back. But can you set up a reservation, _please?"_

He was met with silence for a whole minute until she finally responded, "You should be getting the directions any moment, the driver will be sent soon to your location. If that is everything, goodnight Mr. Cartman."

She didn't wait for him to reply, immediately hanging up.

"Trouble in paradise?" Kyle laughed, awkward and high pitched. "A-am I the other man? Haha..."

"My assistant, Haley, is causing quite the stir." Eric grumbled, shoving his phone into his pocket.

"The blonde from the hotel?"

"The very same." Eric sighed, fishing for the silver flask in his jacket. With a flick of his wrist, the cap was undone and soon he was gulping down half the bottle.

"Woah, what are you doing?!" Kyle gasped, latching onto the arm containing the flask. "I know you're big, but hold on!"

Breathless as he removed the metal container from his lips, a tad warm from his immense body heat, Eric messily screwed the lid back on before putting it in his jacket pocket.

"What?" he croaked, the negative feelings he once felt were muted. If only for the rest of the evening, as soon as they finished their date, he'd be sure to drink the rest of the alcohol.

Kyle was glaring at him now, expression filled with such concern that inwardly Eric flinched.

"Are you seriously asking me that, Eric? You just downed a bunch of alcohol after some mysterious phone conversation. How am I supposed to react to that?"

He paused, considering the best response to ease Kyle's ruffled feathers.

"By swooning at the fact that I may be some James Bond."

"What the actual fuck are you talking about?"

Eric broke out in a smile, shoving his hands into his pant's pockets as he lightly paced around the street sidewalk. The light that was being reflected off of the moon turned his hair into an almost ashen shade.

"Think about it, James Bond drinks a lot. He is well dressed, even though he always wrecks some fancy suit or dress shirt with blood. And let me tell you, blood is not easy to get out of clothes! Not to mention he's incredibly good looking and mysterious, just like myself. And finally, he radiates sex appeal."

The red haired man that was a couple of feet away from him rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms as he sniffed rather loudly.

"You may be all of those things, but besides that last one."

"The sex appeal?"

Kyle nodded with a wary smirk, careful when Eric moved in closer to him. He kept his stance guarded and aloof when the man in question stepped into his personal space, forcing him to toss his head back to actually look into his eyes.

He shivered as the fingers that suddenly pressed themselves against his hip bones, moved him back a step or two. From this position the wind was blocked from spearing his skin, and paired together with the heat that oozed off of Eric, Kyle reluctantly followed that warmth.

"Are you sure?" Eric mumbled, leaning down so his lips barely brushed against his date's. Those fingers on Kyle's hip turned into a hand, and immediately it curled and drew his body flushed to its owner.

"Absolutely..." Came the forced response, even if he hummed with excitement and lust. Quickly he found himself in a teasing kiss, with the crease of Eric's irritating smirk biting his bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth.

Giving a large shiver, Kyle burrowed his hands into the fabric of the brunette's shirt, wrinkling it as he hung for dear life. As if they didn't notice the weather, warm fingers found themselves under the beginning of his shirt, smoothing the skin of his stomach.

But as soon as it started, Eric peeled himself away from the trembling man. Kyle frowned, thoroughly pissed off and aching for the missing touch, when a sleek vehicle turned onto the silent street.

It rolled to a stop in front of them, and before Kyle could process what was going on, Eric was holding the door open for him. He stood there like an idiot for a second, confused and still strangely angry and lustful when he climbed into the comfort of heated leather. He dumbly sat on a seat, clicking a seat belt over him when Eric's hand was on his thigh, slowly inching its way closer to his groin.

He bit back a moan, fearfully glancing to the driver. He seemed not to notice, gaze focused on the stretch of road as he steadily drove, but his presence still had Kyle's nerves screeching.

"Stop" he hissed, swatting at that coy hand.

But it moved closer, for a brief second an inch away from the place that Kyle half craved it to be, when it was taken back. He glared at Eric from the corner of his eye, but the other man wouldn't look at him, fixated by the landscape and buildings that were dashed away in the moonlight.

Left to his own devices, Kyle stewed in his thoughts and his reason. But most importantly, he pondered over what he hoped to get out of this relationship the rest of the car ride, with only damned silence to tease him further.


	11. Dinner With A Kiss

_"I'd rather regret the things I've done than regret the things I haven't done." - Lucille Ball_

 

Wordlessly the driver pulled over to a small restaurant, something that was squashed by two much larger buildings. It was fair to say that it was passed down to the hands of younger generations of the original owner's family, as the bricks were old and spotted, with equally ancient light fixtures that cast a copper glow.

Kyle was unsure for a moment, especially since it was as quiet as the rest of the street. But Eric clicked his seat belt undone for him, and yanked him out of the car and down to that artificial lighting. Similar to everything else, inside was as silent as a sealed tomb. If things didn't work out here, at least it was somewhere to warm up.

It was an elderly woman that swept by the door that addressed them, huffing as she straightened herself and away from the broom in her grasp.

"Only two?" she sighed, wiping at a few white strands that escaped her bun. The apron that was tightly wrapped around her figure was stained from constant use, with brilliant blotches of red, green, and yellow.

Eric nodded, "Thank you, Rosa."

As she lumbered off, probably to fetch their menus, Eric led them to a table that sat near the windows. There they could see the blue wash of the streets, foggy with the snowflakes that drifted down to the cold ground.

Brushing his knees against a large set, Kyle winced as he shifted his legs to the side. He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice once more.

"D-do you come here often?"

"Often enough." Eric ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. Already the clumps of snow were melting, and a few droplets trailed down his face.

Kyle unabashedly watched them intently, flushing when his eyes were captured by Eric's.

Rosa hobbled over to their table, dropping the menus unceremoniously onto the wooden surface without a care. She flashed Eric a smile when he said "Risotto with lemon garnish and green beans" without once looking at the menu.

When her wrinkled face turned to Kyle, he was certainly a lot slower to spew out his choice.

"Fettuccine Alfredo, please."

She gave a curt nod, shadow of a smile on her face when she asked what they wanted to drink.

Kyle caught Eric eyeing their wine selection, and as he opened his mouth, Kyle intervened by saying, "Just water with some ice cubes, thank you."

Eric glared at him as Rosa was off again, darting towards the kitchen.

"I wanted something else, Jew." he grumbled, squinting when Kyle shook his head in frustration.

"I could tell, but you already reek enough of alcohol. This is going to be a shitty date if I'm stuck with you being drunk."

Childishly Eric pouted and kicked Kyle from under the table, grinning only when he received a yelp in pain for his efforts.

"Unlike you, I can handle a couple of drinks. And please, you love the way I smell."

"What the fuck are you taking about? I like nothing about you, and certainly not love."

If he was fazed by this admission, Eric didn't show it. In fact his grin deepened, and as he leaned forward, he gave a rich whisper.

"Really? Because on our first night together, you did nothing but moan my name."

Kyle chewed on his bottom lip, questioning on how to retort that claim. Especially since it was true.

Thankfully Rosa came back in time, and the clatter of plates cleared up the silence that was beginning to boil over.

As the pleasant smell of reheated pasta wafted into the air, the sweating glasses of water stuck to the wood underneath as they were put down. Kyle ripped his own upwards, and greedily took a gulp. Somewhat because of he was actually thirsty, and for how Eric so easily made his throat and mouth dry.

Putting it back down, Kyle was startled by the sound of Eric's voice reaching out to his ears.

"What?"

Eric gave an exasperated sigh, spearing another piece of green bean before popping it into his mouth. After he swallowed the bit, he repeated what he said once more.

"I said: What tight-ass work are you up to?"

Kyle snorted, "I'm a lawyer."

"I know that! I meant what work is your firm currently up to?"

Swirling his fork around his pasta, Kyle furrowed his brow, "How did you know I was a lawyer? And why do you care? I'm not going to do any illegal shit for you."

"Oh, please. Give me some credit, Kyle, I already have people for that. I asked to start up a conversation, or do you want to spend the rest of the evening staring into my eyes?"

It was Kyle's turn to give Eric a kick, but the grunt he received reminded him far too much of the night they spent together, and the possible future ones. Skin flushed a light pink, he forced another forkful of intertwined pasta into his mouth.

"We're just trying to build up our reputation, and help the community."

Eric rolled his eyes, "Yeah, right. Lawyers helping people? Please!"

"Like you would know anything on the concept of charity or anything that involved being a caring and considerate person."

"You got me there." Eric smiled, "I'm just a cold hearted and greedy bastard."

The redhead across from him nosily gulped down the bits of food that were lodged in his throat, chest constricting with the words that came so easily from Eric.

"You know that's not what I meant." he whispered, voice shaky and uneven.

Eric looked away, "I know, but I do."

Kyle was unsure of what to do for a moment, but soon his hand was clutching Eric's. Neither said anything as a spare finger rubbed at the back of the other's large hand. It was possible that either were shocked that Eric didn't move away from the contact, and instead accepted it with a stony expression.

Not able to meet the brown eyes he so desperately wanted, Kyle settled with looking out of the window. The curling leaves on the brittle trees sank off of their perches when snatched up by the persistent current of wind. He watched one dance about, before it was swept towards a sewer drain and became soggy as it was plastered against the sodden street.

"Why are you here?'

He didn't look away from the window, not even for the question.

"I don't know."

"Is it because I now have money?"

He turned back to his supposed date, "No" he said, and he meant it.

The expression that donned Eric's face twisted to that of simple of understanding, and the realization of the truth that was presented to him.

"I believe you." But Kyle wasn't sure what he was going to do with that knowledge.

* * *

After they had finished their meal and Eric dutifully paid for dinner, the pair stumbled once more outside. This time Kyle found himself pressed against the side of a building, invisible to the few strays that drifted down the street, and a hand crawling its way onto the spread of his chest.

He shivered at the feel of the cold stones, his thin shirt doing nothing to protect his body and its heat.

Eric pulled away for a moment, and Kyle whined at the loss. But soon a crisp and large jacket was pressed into him, and while he withheld any comment he so desired to say, Kyle put it on and welcomed the comfort that still lingered.

Heavily he breathed in the scent of Eric and his cologne, moaning aloud when a set of teeth scraped the tender expansion of his neck. As he gave a few thrusts towards the figure that loomed over him, Kyle groaned at the feel of the erection that brushed his own.

"You're hard already?" he weakly laughed, yanking Eric's face away from his neck and to his mouth. It was lavish with an undertone of need, greater than just a quick kiss.

"I've been hard since I gave you that blowjob, it was damn painful to sit with at dinner."

With a breathless chuckle, Kyle blindly lowered his hand downwards until he grazed the surface. He knew when he hit the right spot when Eric gave a low grunt, and rocked himself closer towards his hand. Kyle couldn't help but smile, forehead against Eric's as he continued to stroke and squeeze the other's erection through his pants.

He could smell the scent of lemon on Eric's lips, and moaned when the brunette's hot breath blew onto his cheek.

A vibration cut through his body, instinctively he dropped his hand and reached for his back pocket.

Incoming call from: Stan Marsh

"Fuck!" Kyle swore, pressing answer without even realizing it. He couldn't look into those brown eyes as he said, "Hello?"

"Hey, Kyle. It's Stan."

"Oh, hi."

Seemingly enticed further, Eric moved his mouth back to Kyle's neck, incessantly pressing open mouthed kisses there.

Not wanting to raise any alarms with Stan, Kyle held back his moans as he screwed his eyes closed and tried to follow their conversation.

"I feel bad about ditching you, but I had to stay with Wendy."

 _Fuck Wendy_ , Kyle thought with a grimace.

Sensing his mood, Eric thrust his hips into Kyle's. The red haired lawyer's body shook with the restraint from not groaning, the delicious friction sending bolts of pleasure straight to his core.

"I-It's fine."

"Well, that's the thing. I know you're busy, but would you like to go to the marine with me? Possibly look at some whales?"

"S-sure, I'd love to go with you, Stan."

Eric paused, body rigid with unexplained tension.

"Great, it's a date then!"

Kyle sighed, unable to erase the smile that found its way onto his face.

"Sure, it's a date."

As they exchanged goodbyes, Eric stepped away from Kyle breathing hard. The other cleared his throat, suddenly aware of the disheveled and flushed appearance of Eric.

"Dude, are you alright?"

Eric glanced to the side, and after a second he shook his head, as if to clear it from some haze.

"I'm fine. I just..." he scrubbed at his face, "it's been a long day. You've done your bit for the bet, I won't hold you back any longer."

Kyle rose his phone higher up in the frigid air, gesturing towards it. "This isn't because of Stan is it? He only wants to go to some marine."

"No, it was never about that hippie. And you don't have to explain anything to me, we aren't dating."

"I-"

"I'll call the driver and give him your address." Eric spun on his heel, starting to walk towards the lip of the entrance.

"Wait!" Kyle called out, so very confused, but sincere in wanting Eric to come back. "Where are you going?!"

Eric looked over his shoulder, face unreadable as they met each other's gaze.

Kyle was the first to divert his attention elsewhere, a drop in his stomach shaking him.

Coursing through the bitter tang of the night, the soft whisper crept along slippery surfaces and into Kyle's ears.

The words "I don't know" had him freezing, and filled with such guilt at the lonely sound of it.

But before he could sum up the courage to say anything, he was gone.

"Stay" weakly rang out, heard only by the one person who didn't need it, Kyle.

 

 


	12. Is It Whale Worth It?

_"To truly laugh, you must be able to take your pain, and play with it!" - Charlie Chaplin_

 

"You don't have to go!" Sheila cried out, clinging to her son's arm. She got only an affectionate eye roll and smile in response.

Kyle's time visiting South Park was over, meaning he had to return to his dull life once more. But currently his mother prevented him from walking out of his childhood home with his suitcase, that is, until his father wished him a farewell and pried him out of his mother's grasp.

"Come on, dear. We don't want to make Kyle late in beating this morning's traffic."

He gave his father a thankful nod, and after promising to call more, he began the long trek home. And his father couldn't have been more right, the traffic had been awful! Thankfully he missed the full impact of it, but just barely. Soon after Kyle dropped off his things and had a blistering hot shower, it was off to that marine. It surprised both Stan and Kyle to realize that they lived closer than they thought, a mere city or two away. Which was a blessing, meaning that Kyle could arrive there relatively soon.

While he waited in his car for the destined time to arrive, Kyle stared at the number in his phone's contact list.

It was the set of digits he had discovered on his back, Eric Cartman's.

After their dispute, if you were willing to call it that, Kyle had thought of no one else. Not even on the ride over to the marine did Kyle once think of Stan, but rather about that episode in the alley way. What Eric meant, and what his true intentions were. He's known Eric long enough to understand that things weren't always simple with him, and there was always something underneath what he said.

Loosening the hold of the flannel scarf around his neck, Kyle took a deep and steadying breath as he typed in a message, and hit send.

**Eric, it's me. Kyle. Look, I don't want things to get weird between us. I can't think of a recent time where I had more fun, even when we fought. Can we still see each other? At least for coffee so we can talk about this...and us.**

There, something that came from the heart. Kyle chewed anxiously on his thumb's nail, staring at the blankness of his screen until a reply popped up.

**I'm sorry, Mr. Cartman isn't in at the moment. I'm Haley, his personal assistant. But I can speak on his behalf.**

Haley? Oh. She had been that woman that wanted to scratch his eyes out at the hotel.

**Do you always go over his cell's messages? Look, I don't want to sound rude. But it'd be a lot better if I could actually talk to him, instead of his staff.**

Kyle glared at his screen as he waited for the assistant's response, brooding over the fact he had to go through all of this ridiculousness. Eventually she replied, but only after a minute of tense waiting.

**We have that much in common, but you may not realize how truly busy Mr. Cartman is. So instead of getting in the way of everyone and wasting their time, let's terminate this useless contract and move on with our lives. If you feel hurt in any way, I'm sure we can come to an understanding if you are compensated for your effort. Thank you for your concern, but please don't message this number again.**

He frowned, unable to believe his eyes. Fine, if that's how Cartman wanted to be. So much of a fucking tool that he couldn't say it to his face, only by his assistant. And to think he felt bad for him!

**Excuse me?! I won't lower myself to your standards and let myself be bought out, you can tell MR. CARTMAN that I understand loud and clear. He won't hear of me again, oh, and Haley? You can go fuck yourself! Have a nice day.**

He didn't even bat an eye before he blocked Eric's number and stuffed his cell into his glove compartment, closing it with far more force than necessary. His eyes became prickled, and with a jolt, he realized he was crying. Sniffing loudly, Kyle angrily wiped at the corners of his eyes.

It didn't matter, Kyle was better than this. He was better than Eric Theodore Cartman, and didn't need any of his satisfying kisses, borderline nice jokes, or his bullshit.

Kyle was fine, he was better off alone.

* * *

Haley chuckled to herself, deleting her conversation with the annoying day-walker. She tucked a lock of hair behind an ear, mightily pleased with herself and how she handled such a sticky situation.

Goodbye, Mr. Broflovski. And good riddance.

"Haley?"

She spun around, heart pounding and eyes wide with fear. Her employer stood in the door frame, yawning from his recent awaking from sleep. They had arrived back to his home late last night, as he was quite determined to put some distance between him and South Park. Haley blamed it on Kyle, but when she asked about it, Eric would get into a cranky fit that had her ducking for cover.

"Yes, sir?" she hummed, appreciating the sight of her boss still in his boxers. Aware of when her eyes wandered, Eric shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet, uncomfortable.

"Have you seen my phone?"

She smiled brightly at him, shaking the glossy bit of technology in her hand, "Right here, sir."

Eric frowned, taking the couple of steps into the room to pluck it from his assistant's hands, "Why do you have it?"

Haley's smile froze in place, "I was charging it, as you always request."

Everything became still as her boss gave her a glance over, trying to sense if there was any sneaky motive a foot. His shoulders relaxed, and it was clear he accepted Haley's excuse. But it isn't clear if it was because Haley was a good actress, or because he placed blind trust in her.

As he thumbed through his contacts, he walked out of his bedroom and towards the kitchen. As he approached the counter which housed his cup of freshly brewed coffee, he sighed.

"Is everything alright, sir?" Haley asked, having followed him down the twisting hallways. From here in the opened space of the room, Haley could see the scratch marks on his shoulders and back, highlighted by the light streaming from the windows that overlooked their city. Eric had been hurt before, when he was starting out. He had to create ties with less than savory members of society to clear cut the competition, and the result left him with scars. Mostly from being slashed at, but there was the few burn marks here and there.

But these, they were from passion and nothing else. Kyle had given them to him, and the thought had Haley grinding her teeth.

Eric was the exact opposite, he didn't seem to mind.

"I don't know, I was expecting..." He groaned, deep and spiced with regret and longing. "I have no clue what I was thinking or what I wanted, but I fucked up."

Haley watched with rapt attention as he sat at the counter in the middle of the room, bringing his mug labelled 'the boss' closer to his person.

"It can't have been that bad?" she offered, breathless as the other's Adam apple bobbed with a sip of the dark liquid.

"Maybe I should just message him..." Eric mumbled, now talking more to himself than her.

The nicely dressed blonde was stiff with that sentence, but she praised whatever deity that listened to her, when Eric followed with, "But I don't wanna look weak...I'll wait for him to start us off. I don't want to mess this up."

Haley's heart swelled with love and pain at that, she knew that Eric needed something better than a redhead to fuck. He had been hurt so much that he needed someone to be by his side, to be gentle. And she could offer that, she would swear on every holy artifact ever created if she could get him to return those sentiments.

And as he was bent over the counter, looking stressed out and haggard. She knew it was for the best, or that's what she promised herself. He'd learn to move on and forget Kyle ever existed.

* * *

A tap from his window had him cranking his head to the side, meeting Stan's concerned face. Shit. He finished wiping the last of the betraying tears on his cheeks before he turned off his car and opened its door, a smile in place.

But Stan didn't put up with his bullshit, and the first words out of his mouth were, "Are you okay, dude?"

Kyle shook his head, choking those negative feeling back down. Stan understood perfectly well, and remained quiet when they walked past the building where he worked, and approached the boat tied off to the docks.

With a cheerful smile, Stan showed off Wendy and his supposed child. It was an old thing, yellow paint chipping away in patches. It stood out from the others by the additions that were freshly painted on the sides, flowers and lightning bolts. It was clear that the young couple couldn't settle on one idea, so they compromised.

It was so stupid, but it had Kyle laughing hard. Stan was humble enough to join in too, blushing the whole time.

But it was when they set off after preparing properly for caution, bodies vibrating with the purr of the boat's engine, Stan started the expected conversation.

The clouds were still darkened from yesterday's snow fall, and it cast its glow onto the choppy waters they skated across. It made Kyle a bit sick to look at the greyish blue waves for too long, feeling the cold distinctly with the wind biting his cheeks and the frigid froth of the water spraying onto their boat.

Stan eased it into a slow drift, and finally Kyle could hear him with the roar in his ears.

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

It was hard for Kyle to turn around in his life preserver vest, but he managed.

"Can I?"

"Of course."

Kyle frowned, pulling himself further into his done up jacket. He should have brought something thicker, he wasn't taking this as well as Stan was.

"There's this...person, and they, well...I guess they decided that they wouldn't want to be around me anymore."

Stan nodded, turning off the boat so they drifted with the crashing waves.

"I wouldn't call it love...I don't think we know each other well enough for that, or at least spent time together. But there was definitely something there, an attraction that went deeper." Kyle frowned, wondering how to explain what Eric and he had.

"Lately I've been in a rut, but with that person I felt like I was finally breaking out of it. And exploring things that were new and exhilarating. But when they stopped...us, they did it without talking face to face. Instead someone else sent me the text, and I guess I was used or felt like I was considered worthless."

Stan's cold hand touched his shoulder, squeezing it with all of the comfort he could offer.

"If they made you feel like shit, Kyle. Trust me, you deserve better."

"Thanks." Kyle whispered, but their conversation didn't deal with the bitterness he felt. But at least it steeled his determination to heal and with time, forget Eric Cartman. And he would do just that.

* * *

Alone with his phone, as he sent Haley on another useless quest to cheer him up, Eric stared at the screen. He could have said a number of things to Kyle, write about how much he hated him, and how he loathed that he felt... _things_ around him.

Angrily he took another shot of the whiskey he had poured himself, his shaking hand sloshed the liquid onto the cool tiles below. He couldn't understand what was happening to him, but one thing was for certain. Kyle knew what was going on, he could fix him.

Eric tried to blink back the on coming headache that carved itself into his mind, fingers sliding as he typed.

**Can we talk? Things are backwards and falling apart, I can't fix this.**

His hopes shouldn't have been so high, Kyle never replied. So he drank the entirety of his liquor cabinet to fall asleep that night.

The words, _never trust a Jew_ echoed.


	13. An Introduction To: Lawless Relationships

_"Everyone wants to say they hate lawyers, and yet I've never met a parent who didn't want their kid to be a lawyer." - Jessi Klein_

 

_Three weeks later_

***

Swept up in the chill of winter, Denver's streets became cold and shiny with frost. Accordingly its citizens boarded up their homes, turned up the heat, and bundled themselves in layers of clothing.

Kyle gave another large shiver, trying his best to ignore the temperature as he stood before a large and impressive building. It was a courthouse, grey with columns that spoke volumes of how law was necessary, and how everyone should bow towards it. But it seemed ironic, having a grand building that stood before citizens that coughed and limped along. Dead from the long hours of work with only enough money to barely scrap by.

He sulkily trudged along, wishing that he could go back home and into his warm bed. After he climbed up the stone steps, and had just pushed the heavy oak doors open, a hand yanked him further inside.

"Mr. Michaels." He said with a slow smile, spare hand shaking his employer's in greeting while the other was already unbuttoning the top of his jacket.

Mr. Michaels was an old toad of a man, with a squashed form, his limbs forced into himself. Two dark and beady eyes smiled into Kyle's, fond but as paranoid as always. Kyle wasn't sure what happened to his boss in the past, not officially anyways. When Kyle first arrived at his current firm, still fresh from university, he heard a rumour that Mr. Michaels was once obligated into defending a series of mafia families. And the old man would get these shortly written letters that basically told him that if the person didn't get off, than he'd be quick to disappear. Paired together with the strange and unfortunate instances that seemed to follow him around, now Mr. Michaels permanently wrung his hands together and peered down hallways, as if to check if someone was there.

"Ah, Kyle. The representatives of the mining company are here, along with some of their families."

"And those blood suckers?"

Mr. Michaels shook his head in dismay, and double checked that no one could listen to their conversation before continuing on, "Kyle, it isn't polite to say such things."

The two lawyers strolled past the main room and into a joined hallway, heading towards the spacious room where they would negotiate the terms of the union.

"Well it's true. What else would you call them? They plan on reducing the pay for those workers to nothing sufficient. And then to be assholes, they want to cut their benefits too!"

Mr. Michaels stopped Kyle from entering the boarding room, and while they stood alone in the hallway, he hissed, "Be careful what you say. This corporation is rich beyond belief, and has many eyes and ears listening." To make his point, he glanced over his shoulder, "Don't take everything to heart, this isn't a war. We're lawyers not soldiers...Now c'mon, they're waiting for us."

Kyle stood by his lonesome as his boss left him in the hallway, and after a moment he went in after him. Trying his hardest to remember that it was just work, and nothing else.

* * *

In the middle there was a large table that stretched across the room's length, so glossy that it acted as a mirror. And there was a small group on either side of it, one was dressed in expensive suits, all iron pressed to perfection. The other group was obviously Kyle's, with four men and one woman in their Sunday best, clothing well worn and modest, but at least neat and tidy. Mr. Michaels wasn't that better off with his once fashionable suit, but now a few of his buttons were missing and his shirt strained against his considerable belly.

Kyle took his seat beside him, reaching for his share of his paper work. He rose his eyes up to the stern faced lawyer that was obviously in charge, "Are we ready to begin?"

"Not quite." The man's grave voice responded, "my employer just stepped out to refresh himself, he'll be back any moment."

Kyle narrowed his eyes, "Of course."

The man placidly outstretched his hands in front of his person, and gave a friendly smile that was sure to play a lesser person's emotions and set them mistakenly at ease. But Kyle wasn't so fooled, he could smell the falsehood a mile away.

A door creaked open, and Kyle dismissively lifted his head up to briefly acknowledge the man he was fighting against. But his heart was caught in his throat, and he watched as Eric sauntered into the room with that short assistant of his, which closely shadowed his every movement. His hair was once more slicked back, and he only wore a befitting leather jacket and a white dress shirt underneath with some sleek jeans. Eric didn't appear to notice him right away, keen to sip from his Styrofoam cup that smelt of fresh coffee, and seat himself in the midst of his lawyers.

Once he settled himself it was clear to everyone, this was the true person in charge. And the affect had everyone shell shocked into a silent state, besides the sipping sounds coming from Eric.

Sighing as he placed it to the side, finally the brunette surveyed their side of the table and finally locked eyes with Kyle. At first Kyle thought he'd appear stunned to see him, but he wasn't, not even a flicker of it passed Eric's features. Instead he glanced down Kyle's body, and as ashamed as the red haired lawyer was, he shifted his weight in his creaking chair with desire. Suddenly that fantasy he'd been having these past few days resurfaced, the one where Eric forced him against a desk and had his way with him.

When Eric finally met his eyes again, they were cold and without that smirk Kyle expected.

"Shall we get started?"

Kyle opened his mouth to reply, but realized that Eric wasn't talking and clearly wasn't looking at him. Puzzled by the slew of emotions that tickled his nerves, Kyle burned with indignation as he peered to the blonde, Haley.

She was the only one to give him a smirk, and he hated it. Hated that it felt like he playing for some unknown prize, and she was winning.

Without acknowledging the affect it had on him, he began to do his job.


	14. Outing Research

_"The secret of business is to know something that nobody else knows." - Aristotle Onassis_

 

The noisy shuffle of creaking doors and coughing announced the end of the mining company's meeting with its union.

Kyle waited back until the end, aggravated and flustered as he sorted a small pile of record claims and reports, only merely nodding to the polite goodbyes.

When he finally was dressed in his outside-wear, he found that everyone else had left besides a paralegal assistant they used, a freelancer. He was roughly the same age as Kyle, but his scornful attitude made sure that they never had a real conversation.

So when Kyle stepped outside, he was taken aback to find Adam Belanger leaning against one of the courthouse's coarse walls, puffing away at a cigarette.

"Adam." Kyle mumbled under his breath, careful to step around the plume of smoke that greeted him, near invisible against the harshness of the stormy sky.

"Bunch of thriving assholes, getting away again."

He turned around, knitting his brows together into a confused and discontent frown as he peered at Adam.

"Sorry?"

Adam took a lengthy drag from his cigarette, making his already gaunt face appear ghoulish under the lighting. It made Kyle cringe and avert his eyes.

"Your _friend_ , Mr. Cartman."

"H-he," Kyle sniffed, "he isn't my friend."

"I don't give a shit." Adam flicked what was remaining of his cigarette away, uncaring if it was still ablaze on the stone steps. Without even thinking, Kyle rubbed it out with the heel of his shoe, creating a nasty smear on the gritty surface.

"And what is that supposed to mean? 'Getting away again'?"

"You tell me."

Kyle brushed a few loose curls back from his eyes, "I don't get what you mean."

"Look, sir." Adam gave him a sidelong glance, "I don't care if you admit or not. But just then you and that suit stuffed pig had some weird moment, something passed between you two. But regardless of who you screw...A bit of helpful advice? Do your research first."

Kyle didn't waste any more time on Adam, and acknowledged him was a curt nod. Adam Belanger wasn't exactly a people's person, so Kyle knew that talking as much as he did took a lot out of him. Still, he didn't have to like a nose in his affairs. Especially painful and personal ones like these.

Climbing into his car, quickly Kyle shot Mr. Michaels a text.

**I heard something interesting. Care to shed some light on it?**

It was down Main Street when he received a reply, and fishing for his cell almost got him into an accident with a bicyclist. Only his wit and reflexes left him with a shaking fist and curses as payment.

After that he safely parked himself near a pizza joint, the smell of dough heavy in the air. Crinkling his nose at the scent, Kyle scanned the message.

**It depends. Care to elaborate?**

Kyle chuckled; only a lawyer would clam up if you asked his honest opinion, and would force you set the guidelines.

**Belanger said something about Mr. Cartman doing this before. At least his team.**

**Well maybe Belanger shouldn't bring up gossip.**

Kyle drummed his fingers along his dashboard. Something fishy was going on if Mr. Michaels was in a worse fit than usual.

**Maybe. But maybe Mr. Belanger should help out if he believes it can spare some families loosing jobs and generations of community.**

He knew it was mean to say, but sometimes Mr. Michaels needed a little push. He only hoped he used the right amount and this wouldn't turn out to be a disaster.

**Kyle, please remember what I said earlier. We just do what we're told, we defend in ways that only lawyers can do. Please don't look further into this, and get some rest. You deserve it.**

He leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes shut as he let out a massive sigh. It looked like he'd be on his own again, prodding to see if he could stir anything up. He just hoped his assumptions weren't right.

* * *

"Sir!" Haley called out, trying to get Eric to slow down as she scurried to keep up. Her high heels were bright and shiny, but tragically squeezed the life out of her toes. It made moments such as these, horrendous.

With a brave leap that left her stumbling into a leather jacket, Haley anchored herself by clutching the cuff of his sleeve.

"Sir." She tried again, wincing at the distant look in Eric's eyes.

"Yes?" he grunted in return, but it lacked his usual cheery disposition. Or as much as he could manage at this exact moment.

Haley's stomach felt fragile, "Sir, if I may be frank."

"Spit it out, Haley. I have to run a tight schedule."

She cleared her throat, "I know you're trying to appear cool headed and completely unaffected. That's why you choose to attend today's meeting...but if it hurts you so much to see...K-that daywalker, then maybe you should just leave this up to me."

Eric halted, turning around fully so the pair could see eye-to-eye. He clasped his large hands on her shoulders, giving the brittle bones underneath a squeeze.

"Haley, I love you, but I won't allow you to compromise my work. Undermine me or go behind my back again, and you won't have a tongue to say anymore suggestions. Are we clear?"

She nodded her head, unable to do anything else.

"Good, I'm going to get a hamburger."

He left her there, gaping in the streets. Somehow the winter chill felt worse alone.

* * *

Kyle cursed under his breath, stalking to the closest public library in the neighborhood. He had shown up to a cafe, using the free wifi there to search Eric Cartman's companies. There was barely any information on either of them, only descriptions that made it seem like they worked towards the greater good.

And certainly nothing on why they would need a mining company in South Park, as anyone could tell you that the mines were quickly drying up. It made no sense, no genuine business man would buy them out.

Determined to unearth what was really going on, Kyle found himself in a dismal library.

With the cold breathing down his neck, he stepped inside to only be announced by the small bell that was rigged to the door.

"Hello, where do you keep your records on local events?" he inquired, smiling at the elderly woman at the front desk. She brushed back the stray hairs that escaped her messy bun, "In the back, go left then straight." She gestured with a gnarled hand.

"Thanks." He mumbled.

Following the librarian's instructions, which weren't as straight forward as they seemed. Eventually the young lawyer found himself near a counter that was stacked in folders, with yellowing paper that seemed to stick out.

Kyle flipped through them, scanning to see if anything stood out or linked itself to Eric Cartman. Settling himself at one of the tables, he eventually did find an article that struck his fancy. It read as:

**YOUNG MAN SEIZES HOLD OF ELECTRICAL COMPANY!**

**Everyone at Novak United were shocked to find themselves working with someone other than their usual employer, Mr. Sokolowski. An unnamed young man, with considerable prowess, managed to buy the corporation giant. Shortly afterwards, he fired everyone and brought in his own people. Strangely enough, the once vocal former workers have since refused to make further comment on the incident. However, an insider for the new CEO of Novak United is said to be making claims on the budding company Groff Inc., a family owned steel mine and manufacturer.**

Looking into this further showed a pattern to Kyle, an unknown individual bought companies for some strange purpose. But only when he bought the company, he usually fired the mass of workers that had been employed there for decades. Only a handful were the originals.

But even if the desired mission was still unclear to Kyle, something wasn't. He was sure it was Eric, and he planned on getting away with it again.

Taking his phone out of his coat, quickly Kyle took some pictures with his cell before he returned the folder to its rightful place.

Despite their past connections, Kyle wasn't going to let him get away with this. Not even in the slightest.


	15. An Ajar Door

_"I love you, and because I love you, I would sooner have you hate me for telling you the truth than adore me for telling you lies." - Pietro Aretino_

 

This meeting didn't go as well as the last, something dark and mysterious seemed to be on the horizon.

Even Eric was off with his assistant, she wouldn't stop fidgeting and casting anxious looks in his direction. It got to a point where Kyle wanted to scream, "Will you two just leave!"

Of course he could never say that, not when everyone was licking the shadows of Eric's footsteps in order to get closer to him. It was revolting in every sense. Still, the meeting eventually came to a close. And they weren't any closer in seizing more benefits and pay for their clients, which had surprising dwindled in rank and size. Any evidence Kyle had shown Mr. Michaels had earned him a head shake, and a refusal of using those articles as ammunition. Kyle Broflovski was completely alone.

As everyone was in the process of leaving, Kyle was filled with such a desire to throttle Eric that he stormed after him in the hallway. Pushing past his swarm of lawyers, Kyle's hand shot out to grab his arm. Eric tensed and cast a bored glance over his shoulder, expecting to see Haley complaining and begging again. But to his astonishment, a fuming Kyle stood before him.

"We need to talk." the redhead hissed.

Eric smirked, "Is this how you plan on apologizing, Jew?" He attempted to shake the grip on his arm, but to his dislike it tightened its hold.

He lifted his eyes back to Kyle's, and the latter growled out a single word.

" _Now._ "

The brainless drones around them hovered, concerned about this new development, and hungry for possible gossip. Eric smiled, and turned that hold around on Kyle. Twisting his arm so that his hand clamped around Kyle's wrist, he dug his fingers into the skin as he dragged him down the hallway and into a solitary elevator.

Releasing his hold as soon as the heavy metal doors closed around them, everything was silent as Eric pressed the 'level three' button.

They had to wait a couple of minutes, but after an awkward bout of silence, the pair found themselves by their lonesome.

"This floor has been closed off for redecorating." Eric explained, but was unsure if he said it because of the need to fill the silence, or because he missed the sound of Kyle's voice and the laughter it held when they talked. Or when they used to.

* * *

"Excuse me!"

Haley turned around at the sudden voice, and gave a shutter at the tone of it. One of the union members, a Mr. Barrett stood before her, looking as uncomfortable as she inwardly felt.

"Yes?" she said with a welcoming smile, like she wasn't just planning on having one of this man's lawyers disappear from the face of the planet.

He took a couple of steps closer to her, casting his eyes to the dusty surface of the hardwood as he whispered, "A-after this it'd disappear right? Th-the ties to that, to that..."

"Woman?" Haley offered, and gave a sly smile when Mr. Barrett flinched. She placed a hand to the side of his shoulder, "Don't worry, your wife won't find out that you cheated on her with a prostitute."

Mr. Barrett's face became pale in his grief, blind to everyone and everything besides his transgressions. This new CEO would fire him, but he couldn't do or say anything, not unless he wanted his sweet Andrea to find out about _that_ night.

"We wouldn't want that," Haley cooed, "not when Mrs. Barrett is expecting. Did you pick a name yet?"

"Francis." Mr. Barrett whispered painfully, remembering the swell of his wife's belly as she placed more kindling in their fireplace, to keep their little home nice and toasty.

"Well, don't worry. If you just continue to be quiet about the situation here, Mr. Cartman won't feel the need to release that information to your wife. But really, it was a mistake and meant nothing to you, right?"

Mr. Barrett nodded dumbly, and was still reflecting on his situation when Haley dropped her smile and walked away. On her way out she caught Mrs. Morton's eye, another person that felt inclined to spend the evening with Mrs. Cartman. And her situation was similar to her fellow union member, and quickly as it had started, she retreated. Unable to grace a tight lipped smile of someone that had a dark secret stolen.

* * *

Far from listening ears, Eric and Kyle walked into a large and barely furnished room. The emerald wallpaper with black swirls was peeling right off the walls, and cans of beige paint was placed off to the side. Besides that, the only objects in the room was a large oak desk that rested in the center, with two chairs on either side.

Kyle was the first to sit down, and expected Eric to take the other chair, but he didn't. Instead he sat on the edge of the desk, making the fabric of his trousers wrinkle and tent around the groin area.

"Want to tell me what this is about?" Eric asked with a sneer, digging a hand into his pants for a packet of cigarettes.

"You know what this is about, you fucking asshole!"

Eric spared him a glance, face shadowed by the limited amount of light that was filtering through the frosted windows. He crossed his legs, "Fine, then go ahead. Apologize."

Kyle bit back the venom in his throat, only managing to say, "E-excuse me?"

"You heard what I said, apologize. Apologize for blocking my phone number and getting sand in your vagina."

"Wait one fucking second!" Kyle kept a steady grip on his chair's arm, "First off all, how pretentious can you be! 'Uh, I don't want to ever speak to you again, Kyle. It's okay, I can pay you for the sex!' And now here you are, asking me how I could block such bullshit!? Not to mention being a general douche-bag to these families, with your sneaky plans and cons-"

"What?"

Startled by Eric's confused stupor, Kyle paused for a second. He returned the lost expression with a sneer, leaning up in his seat, "That's right, I know all about the other companies. Honestly..." he shook his head, chest boiling with rage and all of the hurt he felt these past couple weeks. This was his chance to let it all out, let Eric Cartman know not to fuck with him. That he wouldn't just snivel and be pushed around, not like Mr. Michaels.

"What gives you the right to treat human beings like this!" Without even thinking he jumped to his feet and shoved Eric with all the strength he possessed. Eric's hunched form didn't have the chance to catch himself, and instead he was flung back onto the desk, hard.

It took a couple of seconds before either could process what had happened; Eric sprawled over the wood while Kyle closely loomed over him. Heavy breathing nestled the air, and Kyle closed his stretched out palms into tight fists, dropping them slowly by his sides.

Kyle was rooted to the spot, caught by the image of Eric gasping for the air that was knocked from his chest, meanwhile rubbing at what he could reach of his head. Already the brunette was starting to feel nauseous, but that might have to do with the fact that recently he'd been stuck on a diet of hard liquor and whatever garbage he could eat that made him feel full.

It was quite a drastic change, going from healthy foods to hamburgers and fries, that was his mother's cooking coming back to haunt him. He did it to punish Haley, but that didn't really make sense, maybe he did it to hurt himself...

"Whatever." Eric whispered, shaking his head. But that made things worse, and the world tilted on its side. He lifted his arm to the air, beckoning Kyle to haul him back up. But that move only earned him a stare, and so Eric loudly sighed.

"Look, Kyle. I didn't send you a text, you have my word on that."

Kyle scoffed.

"It's the truth, and I won't beg to let you see that. It's beneath me. So whoever gave that information is an idiot, do you really think I'd pay you for the sex? I don't pay my lovers anything, the pleasure is mutual."

The redhead looked to the side, still ignoring the hand waiting for him. Wordlessly he withdrew his phone from his pants pocket and scrolled to their last and only conversation, sticking the screen into Eric's face.

"What about this then?" Kyle whispered, frowning when Eric's face became harsh with anger.

"That...that stupid fucking _bitch_.."

Kyle's hand fell back to his side, "You didn't know" he mumbled with shocking realization. He furrowed his brow, "If I apologize, can you answer something for me?"

The man before him weakly climbed away from the desk and back onto his own feet, still needing a hand on the wood to keep him upright. Eric cleared his throat, "Don't bother, I'd block the asshole that sent me that text too. In fact, I'd probably do something worse to him."

Kyle stepped back, making room for the other as he tried to righten himself, "Anyway, what's the question?"

It was time for Kyle to clear his own throat, "Why did you leave after dinner?" He watched as Eric shifted his weight around, awkward with the new layer of fat that protected his belly and hung off of his hips.

"I..."

Kyle bit his bottom lip, gesturing for Eric to continue.

"I...it's hard to say, I just..." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, "Look, I know when I'm not wanted. I've spent my whole life trying to fit in and accept myself, but I never can. Being the awkward third wheel, or fourth to the fucking trio of best friends is the worst, so I try and jam myself elsewhere."

"And what, you expect me to run off into the sunset with Stan? Making flower crowns and singing melodies?"

Eric's face broke out into a brief smile, acknowledging the humorous vision, "Not exactly, but I'm not blind either."

"And?"

"And," Eric stressed, "I know that lost puppy stare anywhere. You'd give CPR to a whale and frolic with some forest sprites with that hippie, just to hold his hand."

Kyle flushed with embarrassment and anger, "I would not! And stop calling him a hippie, fatass!"

Eric's smile dropped with that word, something that Kyle never meant to slip out. He already figured that it was a sore topic for Cartman, especially since it was an insult they constantly referred to. Now he figured that it stuck with him, and no matter how confident Eric appeared, he was downright uncomfortable in his own skin.

He quickly recovered, donning a smirk as he invaded Kyle's space and dove a large hand into the red curls. Grabbing a handful, he yanked Kyle closer and tilted his head, ignoring the hands that tried to remove his own from the daywalker.

"Why?" he breathed, "He isn't some white knight going to save you." He leaned in close, lips almost brushing the other's as he peered into Kyle's eyes.

The young lawyer stopped struggling, and favoured to glare in response, "It doesn't matter, I don't need anyone to save me." He stubbornly stuck his chin in the air, peering into the dark browns, "I'm certainly not scared of you."

Kyle stifled the immediate yelp that clawed at his lips when Eric pulled on his hair, and instead it bubbled to a pitiful whimper. The sound had the other grinning in such delight that it reminded Kyle of that fantasy with a desk, and so he peered around the broad set of shoulders at it, brows knitted together.

Eric followed his gaze, and rose a brow at Kyle when he turned back. He moved in close again, warm breath fanning as his voice dropped a couple of degrees into a husky drawl, "Oh I can believe it, _Kahl_." He placed his spare hand on the lawyer's trembling chest, dragging it down to the older man's pants, there an erection was beginning to form.

He trailed a single finger along the outline, barely even considered touching. Still it made Kyle's breath hitch and lean in closer to the feeling, but it didn't last long.

A vibration shook Kyle's body, coming from the closeness of Eric's leg. The latter pulled back, digging into his trousers to grab his cell, and a grimace became apparent with the received message.

"Ah lovely, your boyfriend is here."


	16. The Cafe Of Doom: Awaits!

_Old books that have ceased to be of service should no more be abandoned than should old friends who have ceased to give pleasure." - Bernard Baruch_

 

After Kyle grabbed his coat from the meeting room, the pair reluctantly descended to the main floor, where Stan stood in the entrance.

The man in question was surprised to see Eric there, but he offered the same smile he gave Kyle.

"Sorry," Stan started with an anxious glance, "your mother told me where you'd be working today, and I wanted to surprise you. Both of you."

"Both of us?" Kyle mumbled in disbelief.

"Well, yeah. Either way I was going to look for Cartman, but this new development certainly made things easier for us."

Eric stepped forward, smiling at Stan as he patted his shoulder, "We better hurry, Kenny must be freezing his balls off by now."

"Did he tell you?" Stan asked with a frown, wondering why Kenny would go back on his promise.

Eric shook his head with a smirk, "Please, give me a little credit."

He left the former best friends in the entrance, only dropping his happy attitude when they were out of sight. The wind was eager to nip at his face, rough tongue grating across his cheekbones. With expensive shoes quickly loosing their shine as he walked his way through the courthouse's parking lot, and the sludge that filled it, Eric spotted a cheap blonde leaning on an even worse car.

"Kenny." Eric greeted with a grunt, satisfied with the tinge of blue around the other's lips.

"Hey, where's Stan and Kyle?"

Eric shrugged, looking off into the distant lines of grey buildings and smoke, "Probably sucking each other off, you know how it is."

Kenny made a sound in the back of his throat, a mixture between amusement and understanding. "So, are you going to say what's upsetting you?"

A set of brown slid back to Kenny's eyes, "What makes you think something is wrong?"

The suddenly sniffling blonde bunched his coat closer to his person, "Don't know. Seems like something's eating you up, but you don't have to say."

"Thanks." The loud sound of Eric clearing his throat filled the air, washing the false sense of merriness from Eric's features. He couldn't quite look at Kenny yet, especially at such a vulnerable time. But he was inspired by the relationship they once had, despite it being fucked up and crooked. At least it was theirs.

"I'm in a bad spot, with a...a friend. I'm not sure what to do."

"That's a first."

"Funny."

"Sorry, jokes later then. So how pissed are you at this person?" Kenny threaded his fingers through his shaggy hair, and winced when he came in contact with a knot.

"Very. I just...either way I go, I make things worse. But if I don't intervene, that shitty instance will turn into a disaster."

Pleased when his fingers broke free from the knot, Kenny mulled Eric's disheartening words over. "Well hey, does this person know? At least how it's affecting you?"

"Maybe. We aren't exactly talking right now."

Kenny laughed, "That's the first problem! Look, I can't tell you what to do, man. But can I offer my penny of advice?" Eric gave a curt nod. "It's obvious that you care a lot about this person, and sometimes the real issue comes from that. Not saying you need that person, and when you do say it, it's too late. So unless you want your bond to disappear or whatever, talk out your feelings. Which I know is hard enough for you, but you gotta try."

"Are you sure you're the same Kenny? You've seemed to collect a lot of wisdom since we grew up together."

Kenny shrugged, "People change, man. I learned that the hard way."

The tall brunette's face broke out into a toothy smile, "Got it from a romance movie?"

"Yeah. Why, you like it?" Kenny finally admitted, grinning back.

"Sure. A bit cheesy...but I liked the delivery, it was nice."

The light atmosphere that seemingly arrived from nowhere, quickly dissipated with the sound of footsteps. The two turned around to greet Kyle and Stan, whom both looked jumpy from their unknown conversation. Stan was the first to speak up, grinning ear to ear as he ate up the sight of their little party.

"Dude, I can't believe the gang is together again!"

"I can." Eric mumbled under his breath. Kyle glanced over to him, raising a brow in concern at his rigid form. His previous words kept ringing in the redhead's thoughts, constantly repeating until it almost blocked every other sound.

_I've spent my whole life trying to fit in and accept myself, but I never can. Being the awkward third wheel, or fourth to the fucking trio of best friends is the worst, so I try and jam myself elsewhere._

Kyle rose his hand to grab Eric's arm, but he stopped half way through. His chest restricted with guilt and an unnameable emotion that had him chewing on his bottom lip, and slowly dropping his arm back down. Eric couldn't even stomach looking at him, or the pity that was directed at him.

"Listen up, whale-fucker. Your shitty car better fit my sweet ass."

Stan chuckled, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck, "If it gets to that, maybe someone will have to sit in your lap. But I think we'll be good, there's enough seats."

At the thought of sitting in Eric's lap, Kyle gulped down the sudden saliva that flooded his mouth. It was like those horrible past three weeks never existed, and all because of a new factor. But before Kyle could even voice his rather sexual thoughts, not that he would, Kenny was already winking at Eric and saying something so suggestive that Kyle flushed like a tomato.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." Eric grumbled, but still managing a small smirk at the idea of the blonde perching on top of him.

"Amen" came a chorus between Stan and Kyle. Shortly after the four childhood friends were piling into Stan's car, cursing the entire time as they squished themselves into their respective seats.


	17. Blinded By Friendship

_"Old friends die on you, and they're irreplaceable. You become dependent." - Lionel Blue_

 

Neither can say who first pointed it out, or what made it different from the other dozen they've already seen. But regardless of Kyle's immediate disapproval, as he was used to well known cafes with a certain taste and quality, he found himself somehow seated at a corner table.

And of course, as Stan went off to purchase their orders, Kyle was left with a certain brunette. A man who was rather quiet when Kenny announced he was going to help Stan, and left them successfully and awkwardly alone. Which didn't help matters when Eric refused to look, much less speak to him.

For the moment they were content, or Kyle was forced to be, with the lack of conversation. Anything that may have been attempted was drowned out by the bustling sound of the store, coffee grinding, glass clinking against another, and the buzz of patrons gossiping.

Kyle simply couldn't handle it, it was driving him mad!

"H-how did you know about Stan and Kenny showing up? Stan mentioned that only Kenny knew, but he said he wouldn't say anything."

A span of a heartbeat passed by.

"You have to understand something," Eric was fully looking at him now "I'm rich. Because of that I face constant risk, and so I have to consider everything. Anyone or anything can hurt me, and that goes for both present and future friends. Or in this instance, past ones."

Kyle was having difficulty processing the sudden revelation, "So what? You monitor us or something?"

The lack of denial proved to be all of the answer Kyle needed, and he flushed with the implications.

"That's...oh my god..."

"It's not stalking." Eric was quick to say, "Just an update on everyone's life. In order to keep myself safe and above the game, I have to track the major movements of those that I hold dear or consider a risk."

"Kyle Broflovski, the little lawyer from Denver is a threat?!"

"Definitely when we were children, and time didn't dull your edge. The fact that you dug into one of my company's backgrounds tells as much. By the way, I'd stop doing that if I were you."

"Did..did you just threaten me?!"

"Listen, Kyle." Eric leaned back in his chair, "This thing you're pursuing is bigger than you. And you know it. For your own safety, I'd accept the money like everyone else has in your precious union. If not..." He gave a lazy shrug, pretending as if the dark undertone wasn't lurking in their chat.

"You're sick." Kyle whispered harshly.

Again Eric shrugged. "I'm just trying to be nice right now, and give you ample warning."

"For what? When some of your goons sneak into my house, chop me up into little pieces, and dump my rotten body into some river?"

Sighing, Eric stretched his considerable mass over their tiny table, seizing hold of Kyle's shaking arm and pulling him down. Avoiding the other hand that attempted to swing at him, Eric used this time to whisper into Kyle's ear, "Believe it or not, I'm a pawn in this too. Unlike you, I understand when somethings are much too big for my breeches."

As soon as Eric released Kyle, he received a slap upside the head. Thankfully no one saw the attack, and if they did, they quickly averted their eyes. Not wanting to be apart of a domestic dispute between two apparent lovers.

While one of Eric's ears rung from the resonating blow, and his face burned with a hand print, Kyle tried to get a hold of his breathing. It was taking ever ounce of his willpower to not leap across the table and bash the brunette's head against the floor.

"Do you honestly think I'd believe in some...some conspiracy theory!? I'm not an idiot, Cartman. I'm aware that this is just another attempt to trick m-those families..."

Eric didn't even bother rubbing at his wound, instead giving a smile like broken glass. "Oh, you got me. My plan to warn you of potential danger has failed, you were much too smart for my schemes. Congratulations, _Kahl_." He begun to slowly clap his hands together, still smiling.

"You fucking prick!" Without thinking Kyle grabbed a glass sugar container and threw it at Cartman's face, teeth grinding with such destructive anger. A split second later, the glass exploded as it smashed against flesh and bone, a cloud of shimmering light.

The breath after that got sucked into silence, as a blinded Eric fell down to the ground. Everyone was still, unsure what happened and what to do. Then the closest patron to Eric, who was previously conversing with a woman the same rough age, dropped to his knees by the brunette's side. He was pushing a napkin into the blood that began to first trickle down, then gush.

Kyle stood there, arm still in a throwing position. He just watched as everyone started to rush around, pushing and writhing as they made room, or rushing off to get some help. Kyle couldn't remember anything but Stan and Kenny brushing past him, dropping their drinks onto the table as they made their way over to see Eric. From where he stood he heard people shouting about something being broken, and that the police were on the way.

After that, Kyle fled. He ran as fast as he could out of the shop and down the street, uncaring if he jostled other people and if they yelled after him.

* * *

"Cartman! Fuck, are you okay?!"

Eric winced, head pounding at the loud sounds that yanked and pulled him in every direction. Sharp and intense pain made his face dance from feeling numb, to being on fire.

"Y-yeahh." he mumbled, and immediately frowned at the heavy taste of rust on his tongue. It made him gag, and the desire to vomit was presently suffocating.

He lifted a hand to his face, but it was caught.

"Don't. You'll make it worse."

He frowned, looking away from the woman wiping his face with something that smelt like a hospital.

"Where's the Jew?" There was no sign of the daywalker behind Stan's shoulders, not even after he threw glass at him.

"I don't know." Stan sighed, and furrowed his brow when Kenny squished his way closer.

"He ran off."

Eric chuckled, "F-fucking weak. He's not even going to fight me? Not gonna say I was surprised, that throw was fucking pathetic."

Kenny pressed a hand onto his shoulder, "I'm not sure if you'll be in any condition to fight, you look like shit."

"Thanks." Eric grunted, "But I bet I still look better than you. How about it, sweetheart?" He glanced at the stranger prodding his forehead for bits of glass, "I'm still a dreamboat, right?"

She shrugged, "Yeah, if you had a bag over your head."

Stan and Kenny howled with laughter, and even the other man by his side snickered. Eric flipped them each the bird, but he couldn't help smile at the reply.

"I like your snark. Do you need a job?"

* * *

Each inhale of oxygen was painful, and eventually Kyle slowed down to a stumble. An awful pain dug into the corner of his side, just along his ribs. His legs weren't any better, and Kyle found himself leaning against a wall, legs shaking as he periodically glanced towards the streets.

The commotion from the cafe was gone, and the street he had run onto had no idea about it. Here he was safe, away from Stan and Kenny's disapproval, and more importantly Eric.

He wondered what he would do, as he wouldn't let Kyle get away with that. _Would he?_ He shook his head to clear the thoughts, and he pushed himself away from the wall and towards the curb, hailing a drifting taxi to attention.

He opened the door and climbed in, "Do you know where the nearest courthouse is?"

The driver nodded, flicking the blunt of a cigarette from his dark fingers.

"Good. I'll give you extra if you get there fast." He looked out the window, watching the streets dash away as the car sped along to its destination.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to press charges?"

"Yes." Cartman groaned, partly because he already answered this question before, and the fact the painkillers hadn't kicked in yet. It turned out that woman he offered a job was a doctor, currently in school to specialize in a certain field. She had done all she could for him, but still said he should go to a hospital.

Stan was jumping to his feet, saying they'd take him. But Eric could care less, he had people designed for this. Private doctors that waited on him at any given notice, seeing as his job circled strange and suspicious injuries. But no one was listening to him, just talking over him about who to go to.

And to make matters worse, that idiot of a police officer showed up. He was thin as a rail, with tan skin cracked like a riverbed in a drought. Officer Certs sniffed every other second, and his sandy mustache twitched in response. Cartman hated him beyond words, especially the man's sunglasses that he slid down to fix them with one mossy green eye.

"Maybe I should come later when your head is free of glass."

Eric climbed to his feet, with the help of Stan and Kenny, whom grunted at his weight. Ignoring them, Eric glared at the officer before him, "The answer will be the same."

"Look, sir. I know you may think you're in love, but it's just a phase. And I'll tell you what I told my boy, being a fag is evil. And that proof was that boy who hit you, I'm guessing he's the leader of the relationship? Well you look like a responsible and respectable man, so I'd stay away from his kind. Alright?"

Stan and Kenny choked beside him, bewildered by the police officer's rant. Only Eric was calm, and he flashed the man a smile, "Thanks for the advice, but I'd mind my own fucking business, you fat pig."

The arms holding him up tightened around him, "Stan? Kenny? Do you mind taking me home?"

They were eager to carry him out of there, to leave the red faced officer by his lonesome, and to make sure they didn't get blamed for Cartman's words. Even though they were thinking the same things, they'd much rather not be in a small jail cell because of it.

"That was close." Stan whispered as they stepped out.

"I was close to shoving my foot up his ass, but he'd probably like that." Eric snickered, but dropped the expression when it stretched the cuts.

"Sure you were." Kenny hummed, helping to place Eric in the backseat. Afterwards he climbed along side him, clicking his own seat-belt into place, "Should we look for Kyle?"

"Nah," Stan twisted his car to life with its key, first turning the heat on full blast to warm the chilled atmosphere and seats, "I think he'd just want to be alone."

"Well how is he supposed to get home?"

Stan met Kenny's eye in the mirror, "He's resourceful, he'll think of something. Plus we have to take this big guy to a doctor."

"No you don't! Just take me home!"

Stan shook his head, "Sorry Cartman, but I'm driving so we're going to the hospital, just like everyone else."

"Judas!" Cartman swore from the back, weakly swatting at the blonde that snickered by his side.

* * *

Finally Kyle stood in his kitchen, popping the tab off of a beer can, he held a phone to his ear.

"Look Mr. Michaels I need a break from this case. Do I ever ask for anything?"

"No, I suppose not..." came the hesitant reply.

"Then let me step away from it, and do another case or even have a few days off."

He sipped at his beer while he waited, until eventually a sigh echoed from the other side of the line.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, sir." Kyle felt a weight lift from his shoulders, but the guilt and pain was still present.

"Just one thing..."

"Yes?"

"Kyle, for as long as you worked for this firm you haven't backed down once. What has changed?"

For a second he couldn't find his voice, "N-nothing, sir. Just a set back."

"Be careful then. Running away can't fix all of your problems."

Kyle hung up, chugging the rest of his can and reaching for another.


	18. Condemned Butterflies

_"Gaiety is often the reckless ripple over depths of despair." - Edwin Hubbel Chapin_

 

A day had passed without fail, bringing a chapter to a close, and opening a new one. Life was strange that way.

When Kyle threw that sugar shaker, it caused a ripple effect that altered the relationships in both Kyle and Eric's life, though it didn't appear imminent.

Haley had taken an early day off after the union meeting, meaning that she didn't hear of the incident until the next day. It had started like any other, with her greeting trusted and familiar employees at Eric's headquarters.

"Did Mr. Cartman get those papers yet?" she lazily inquired, not really looking at the fresh faced secretary by Eric's private office. The woman wore sharp and dark clothing, enticing visitors with her air of professionalism, but all of that lacked now. The woman, named Emily, fidgeted with the weight of the question.

Sensing withheld information, finally Haley looked away from her coffee mug.

"Y-you don't know, Ms. Haley?"

"Know what?" she had snapped, frustrated that something happened that she wasn't aware of, and that lowly Emily knew it before her. Emily wasn't worth the dirt underneath her high heels, how could she be? And yet here she was, begging for leftover scraps from her subordinate. It was enough for her to loose her cool facade, and boil with envy and shame.

"He's in the hospital. Some lunatic threw something at his face yesterday, I hear he has a broken nose."

"Wha..."

Emily continued on talking, "I'm sure he'll be fine, but everyone is shaken up by the event. It's kind of crazy, just imagine if it were a gun or something. Not that I..."

Haley couldn't hear the rest of the tumbling words, her mind shut down with the first sentence. She barely recognized the feel of the mug slipping from her grasp, warmed porcelain falling slowly to the ground where it sent scorching liquid flying. It shattered into a galaxy of potential weapons, the type that could have been used on Eric yesterday.

That teasing smirk of his flashed within her thoughts, taunting at the glimpse of being lost. She stepped away from the puddle, shoes crunching against the glass as she numbly walked towards the exit. If she heard Emily calling after her, confused and frightened, she didn't listen or care. Already her cell was out, sending a wave of texts and calls.

* * *

Eric snorted, leaning back to avoid the fuzzy red fabric shoved into his face. But no matter where he tried to adjust himself on the cot, those beady eyes seemed to follow his every move.

"Will you cut it out!" he warned, raising a fist.

"But Eric, I luv' you!"

Again it was pressed into his personal bubble, hard little plastic nose smacking his bruised cheek with an attempted kiss.

"Kenny" he growled, batting the teddy bear away from him; Kenny was determined, and he shifted out of the way with a smirk. In his hand was the teddy bear that he had bought at the hospital's gift shop, which had scarlet fur and a lop sided grin. It held a large heart to its chest with stout arms, which had the words, "I can't BEAR to see you hurt" stitched on.

Eric hoped that it'd burn in the deepest pits of hell, but until its untimely demise, Eric endured the bear's praise and kisses. And Kenny loved every minute of it. Each time Eric moved away, Kenny crooned even louder so the whole floor could hear.

A couple of nurses had come in to see what the fuss was about, and at the sight of Eric's pout and Kenny's grin, they had begun to take pictures. It had gotten to the point where the blonde told everyone about how they were lovers, and when Kenny was being harassed by some homophobic assholes, Eric had defended him. And as a consequence he was horribly disfigured.

"Hey! I'm not disfigured!" Eric shouted.

Kenny ignored him, whispering "He's so brave" to a particularly attractive nurse. And of course they ate it all up. The only bright side to the whole thing was the extra chocolate pudding cups Eric got, but that was it.

"How long do I have to stay here?" he had groaned once again, and the answer was the same as the other fifteen times.

"Two more hours for observation."

"Why?"

"Might have a concussion." Kenny shrugged, reaching over Eric's bed to snatch a baby carrot from the brunette's lunch. "You know you should eat something."

"Eat this garbage? No thank you."

Kenny leaned forward to pat the glaring man's knee, "But it's good for your eye sight."

"No it's not," Eric sniffed, "that's a fucking myth that idiots still think is true. Just like reading in a dimmed room will damage your eyes. Utter bullshit."

The room's door swung open, "That's what I was thinking."

Eric's attitude deepened into a murky sense of despair, topped off with a dash of humiliation.

* * *

Kyle rolled over, bringing himself closer to the comfort of his bed, and its blankets. Mr. Michaels had been gracious enough to give him a day off before his new start, something that he said would make Kyle's head clear up and ready to take on the fight once more.

Just as Kyle was opening his eyes against the current of streaming light, a buzz demanded attention from somewhere to the left. Still wrapped in the lounging attitude of just waking up, Kyle blindly searched for his cell on the bed stand.

Most of them were from Stan, some from Kenny and one from Eric. He went straight to Stan's, not even bothering to glance at the brunette's.

**Hey, man. Where are u?**

**We took Cartman to a hospital on Queen street, u know, the one that has a jukebox for the older ppl?**

**U can come over, Cartman doesn't care.**

**Look man, are u alright?**

**I don't know or care what u two talked about, Cartman won't talk about it either, but u can't let stuff like that get to u.**

**We talked to a police officer, don't worry. No charges.**

**Okay, whatever, man. Just message me when u get these or feel like it. We're all worrying over here.**

Kyle sighed, feeling bad for Stan. He never wanted this, only a evening with the four of them together again. And Cartman had ruined everything, like always.

**I'm sorry about what happened, Stan. You don't need to worry about me, I'm fine. Tell Kenny I'm sorry too, but sometimes HE just gets under my skin. You know how it is. I hope things weren't ruined for you. Maybe we can try again? Something like the boat thing we did. But without all of the awkwardness.**

He hit send and scrolled back down to his inbox, opening up Kenny's messages.

**Not gonna lie, u fucked Cartman up. Pretty intense. i wonder who tops, lol.**

**Dont worry, i wont tell Stan. ;)**

**We are having fun at the hospital, wish u were here. xxooo**

Underneath was a photo Kenny had sent, it was Eric's face looking unimpressed as a red teddy bear with a cheesy line was pressed against his face. The other one was of Kenny in the frame, trying to kiss Cartman's cheek. It was slightly blurry, but that was because of the sudden movement of Eric smacking him.

Kyle squinted, bringing his cell closer to study Eric's wounds. His nose was taped off, showing that it was broken. And he had gauze on one cheek, and bandages in random places where the glass struck him.

**Kenny, have you been drinking? Whatever you think has happened between us, I'll assure you, it doesn't exist. I could never be in relationship with Eric Cartman. But I am sorry about what happened to YOU, maybe we could try to hang out again. You, Stan, and myself. How does that sound?**

After sending his reply, Kyle didn't even bother trying to read the last unread message in his inbox. Shutting his cell off, he tossed it to the other side of the bed, and covered his eyes with an arm.

* * *

Kenny hopped onto the ground, sauntering over to the figure standing in the door frame.

"Hello, I'm Kenny. And you are?" he raised a hand to shake Haley's but she ignored it, instead walking passed him and straight to Eric's bed.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm filled to the brim with chocolate pudding, but good."

"..You have to go the washroom?"

Eric rubbed at his face, "No, Haley. I meant literal chocolate pudding, not shit."

Haley flushed, mouth opening to form a tiny 'o'.

Suddenly Kenny was beside Haley, "But I can fill you up if y-"

"Take a walk, Kenny!" Eric snapped. Kenny rose his hands up in front of him, frowning at the sullen mood of the other man.

"Chill, Cartman. I'll leave you two alone." But he didn't leave without winking at his fellow blonde. When everything was silent and still, Haley placed herself on the edge of Eric's bed, crossing one shapely leg over another.

"What happened?"

Eric shifted himself, looking away, "Nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing" she whispered, reaching out to touch the softness of his cheek. He leaned away, and the action had her chest squeezing painfully.

"Well it is! I don't want to talk about it, so either get me coffee or leave!" he snapped.

Haley flinched, "If that's what you want..." She climbed off the bed, and heading out of the room and into the hallway. She was certain that she saw a coffee machine a bit further down, but her thoughts weren't really on the drink. Any other time she would have fought him on it, but that expression he had...

Even if he said he was okay, it was obvious that he wasn't. He had dark circles under his eyes from lacking much needed sleep, and his overall injuries didn't make him look any better. But Haley doubted if anyone could have tape to cover their broken nose and band aids, and still appear fashionable. Eric looked like he was chewed and spit out.

On the other side of things, Eric had recognized the stress lines and pale face of someone who worried. The large and selfish part of Eric relished in the attention, as it felt nice to actually have someone worry for his well-being for once. But a deep hidden part of him, blocked and muted by his malice, was repulsed by the way he treated Haley. Honestly he was attempting to take Kenny's words to heart, and he really did want to talk about...things...But it wasn't easy, and Eric was terrified. How on God's green earth was he supposed to explain how he felt without ripping her head off?

And for once, it did bother him. The fact that he slowly realized that he enjoyed their banter, and for once felt he had something akin to a friend. And not a minion. Don't get him wrong, she was still that, but at least she was tolerable. Sometimes...

If he was anyone else he would have consulted a parent or guardian, but since he seemed to lack in that field, Eric was fucking screwed.

"Fuck me..." he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

* * *

_Surprise, surprise_. Haley smiled at the familiar and skinny body hovering near the coffee machine. From what her research had stated, Kenny McCormick had an active sex life, and spent a lot of his money on getting drunk and partying. And if either of those things involved women, the money in his banking account shrank to almost nothing.

So when she approached him, it was apparent that Kenny found no harm in a little flirting. But what she didn't expect was the distraught expression on his face, he was more affected by this than he was letting on. As soon as the sound of footsteps entered his ears, he donned the familiar smile of someone who was used to having a good time, and turned her way.

"Well look who it is! What, couldn't get enough of me, sweetheart?"

Haley couldn't help the small smile that flickered across her lips, "Unfortunately no. Mr. Cartman needs some coffee in his system."

"Wow, I can remember when Mr. Cartman was just Cartman. So tell me, how is it working for money-bags?"

She fished some change from the purse that hung from her shoulder, "It has it's ups and downs. The cons are his mood and how he switches from being as sweet as sugar, to having you look over your shoulder when you're going home."

"Then why stay?"

"The money makes things easy to forget, not to mention the benefits are terrific. He plays things fair when it comes to his workers, he shows...a sense of courtesy. But he also shows us the side of him that has us fearful, how he can be so ruthless and cold with the competition. It makes you reluctant to turn against him."

"What about you. Why do you stay?"

She fumbled with her coins before she slid them into the slot, "I...I don't know. The money is always nice, but I stay for..." She sighed.

She was ever so thankful at how patient Kenny was, waiting until she found the correct words.

"When I started out, Mr. Cartman found me in a bad place. It was where he got the tools to be so cunning in the business world, and instead of crushing me down like everyone else, he took me in. Or as much as he could. For once I was given a shot at the life I wanted. It hasn't been so simple and carefree, multiple times I thought he was going to kill me, but he always dragged himself away. I guess...I want to prove myself, and show him that I'm someone that he can fully trust."

"And you think he doesn't?"

Haley shook her head, frustration and sadness causing tears to blur the corners of her eyes. Angrily she wiped them away.

"No, and today was proof enough. Emily told me some lunatic tried to blind Er-Mr. Cartman, so I rushed over here like a bat out of hell. And look what I get! Nothing! The stubborn idiot won't even tell me what happened, not even after...I..."

"Lunatic!?" Kenny laughed, "No wonder why you're pissed, haha."

She swung her attention back to him, "I hardly see how this is funny."

"Cause it wasn't some lunatic."

"It...It wasn't?"

"Of course not! See the four of us, Stan, Cartman, Kyle, and myself were at some coffee house and Stan and I had to go get the drinks, right?"

"Right." Haley mumbled, inwardly vicious at the mention of Kyle's name.

"And while we're there we hear this sound, so we look over. And can you guess what we saw? Kyle and Cartman arguing over something. They've done this since we were tots, so it wasn't a big deal. But the kicker is when Cartman said something, and Kyle grabbed one of those glass cylinders with sugar in it, and threw that sucker at Cartman's face! Haha, can you believ- A-Are you okay, you're looking kinda pale...?"

Haley shook from her spot, barely managing to say, "Kyle's the one that hurt Eric?"

"Yeah...? Um, are you sure you're okay? Maybe I should get a nurse or som-"

She held a hand up, "It's alright. Everything is fine. Can you do me a favour?"

"Sure...?"

"Give Mr. Cartman his coffee, he likes a lot of sugar and milk. Not cream." She spun on her heel, sprinting towards the closest exit.

Kenny stood there in silence, gaping at the assistant's hurried departure.

"What the fuck did I say?"

Discretely he breathed on his hand, checking his breath before he shook his head, and grabbed Eric's scalding coffee. "Chicks, who can understand them."


	19. Consequences

_"Without reflection, we go blindly on our way, creating more unintended consequences, and failing to achieve anything useful." - Margaret J. Wheatley_

 

The startling sound of a door being knocked upon rung throughout Kyle's apartment, enticing him from his bed. Grabbing the housecoat that hung over the top of his door frame, quietly the disgruntled man dressed himself, and made the boring trek to the front.

Despite reassurance that he was coming, the unknown visitor kept rapping their knuckles against the wood. Only stopping when Kyle unlocked the door and swung it open.

A large man stood before him, perhaps the tallest Kyle has ever seen. He was dressed in black clothing, turned grey by the dust and grime on him. Immediately the redhead choked on the scent of alcohol, and something that suspiciously smelled like piss.

"Can I help you?" Kyle sputtered, frowning at the swirling tattoo that peeked out of the man's shirt collar. Kyle squinted, wondering what the smudge could possibly be.

"Are you Broflovski?"

The young lawyer chewed on his bottom lip, a sense of possible danger twisted his gut. He gripped the doorknob harder at the feeling, and tried to casually inch the wood closer to the frame and its lock.

"Yes, I am. Why?"

The man before him looked away from his eyes, beholding the door trying to separate the two. He immediately gripped the door, and grunting, he tore it from Kyle's grasp. A split second later, with the wood smashing against the wall with a roar, the unnamed man forced his way into Kyle's home.

Stepping back to avoid the long and burly arms that tried to reach him, like tree trunks, Kyle made a mad dash towards the kitchen. There, an abundance of knives and a landline phone were hidden.

He didn't get very far, on his third step lights flashed behind his eyelids, popping until the vibrant colours were sucked into a soulless black. Groaning at the pain, Kyle came crashing down to the floor.

* * *

The man, whom was a stranger to Kyle had a name, and it was Max.

Max turned away from the slumped form on the ground, turning around at the sound of high heels pattering against the floor.

He offered the petite woman before him a smile, closed mouth so she wouldn't see his crooked and yellowing teeth.

"Max," Haley greeted, "thanks again for helping me out with this little issue."

Ducking his head in a modest nature, Max rubbed at the dirt smeared on his forehead with the back of his left hand.

"No problem" he mumbled, "I'm always ready to give a helping hand." He glanced back up, mouthing the back of his thumb, a trait he had learned at a young age. "Say, you'll tell Mr. Cartman that will you?"

Haley shrugged, making sure her shoulder didn't brush Max's as she stepped around him. She smiled at the sight of Kyle, boneless and ready for plucking.

"Of course, you've done a very good job here, Max."

The giant of a man popped his mouth off his thumb, grinning his thanks at Haley. And at that instance he forget about his teeth, and only flushed when she grimaced her disgust at their appearance.

* * *

Eric finally hummed with delight, shivering at the cup of coffee recently made. It had taken Kenny four tries to get it right, the ratio of milk and sugar that Eric loved. The others only got a small sip before being pushed aside, leaving Kenny to clean up the mess and go make a new one.

It was beyond him why he put up with Eric, and by going off of how Haley acted, how she put up and worked with him for so long.

"Not bad, Kenny. You've made a decent cup." Eric praised. The heat turned his teeth into gummy bits of jewelry in his mouth. He swished the pearls around, and something poured out. Not liquid, but steam that curled its way to the harsh sterile ceiling and disappeared.

"Thanks" the blonde sighed, feeling a little worse for wear. It's strange, Eric should be the one looking sickly, but it's the reverse. Despite having glass removed from his flesh and a broken nose, Eric had a smile that caused the local nurses and doctors to trip when they walked past. But he's always been like that, drawing others towards himself.

"Though not as good as Haley's, where is she by the way?"

Kenny made a tuneless sound in the back of his throat, free of worry as he shrugged. Stretching his arms above his head so his spine cracked, Kenny pondered the question.

"Don't know, she didn't say. After our talk she sort of jumped, and ran off to do something."

"What did you two talk about?"

Even though he asked, it was obvious that Eric didn't really care. He was much too absorbed in his own thoughts, thinking about a certain spitfire that Eric missed besides everything that had happened.

"Personal stuff about your lack of trust, and how Kyle threw glass at you."

Eric perked up, "Wait, say that last part again."

"What? How Kyle threw glass at you?"

The brunette nodded, leaning in his bed to stare at Kenny better.

"Yeah. How'd she seem?"

Kenny gave another shrug, "Pale, I guess. And after that she ran out the door, like her panties were in a twist or something."

Without another word Eric began to climb out of the bed and onto his own two feet, trembling slightly at the fact that his legs are still asleep.

"Wait a minute! What are you doing?!" Kenny cursed, hopping to Eric's side to even him out with a firm arm.

"Making sure Haley doesn't do something stupid. Where the fuck is my phone?!"


	20. Fish And Chips

_"Thinking will not overcome fear but action will." - W. Clement Stone_

 

When Kyle first came to, he realized that not only was he away from home. But after remembering with a jolt the man that had attacked him, Kyle was later struck with the sickening realization that he was tied up in the trunk of a moving vehicle. Every pot hole had Kyle closer and closer to smashing his head off of the metal roofing.

All he could do was wait, which proved a lot less longer than he first thought. Perhaps he had been out of it for a while?

Soon enough the car came to a rolling stop, and following a door was opened and closed. Light filled Kyle's nook completely as his little cell was opened up by a bit of metal. After the blinding light scorched Kyle's eyes, he noticed the scent of sand and seaweed.

Abruptly he was yanked up, nearly bashing his head on his way out. This time he was held captive by two men, cleaner, but smaller than the original. They seemed more professional.

Kyle wet his lips, thankful to have no gag. Then he pondered that, why would they leave him without one? He glanced around.

There was a small clearing reserved for their cars, the path that led to the road was gravel and well hidden by old and tangled trees. Pushed and prodded until he rightened himself and followed the lead of the man in front, also careful of the other that closely followed him from behind.

As they walked down a trail, which was painful work for Kyle. They left him without shoes, so the stones that jutted from the dirt pierced the soft and pale flesh of his feet. About ten minutes later he found the trees peeling open once again to reveal another form of civilization.

It was a rather squashed building, if it could be considered that. It was made from wood that was beginning to rot, that oddly managed to appear both sturdy and on the verge of collapse at the same time. From the well used nets hung from the side, and the docks behind it, it was obvious that this was a fisherman's shack. Attached to it was a garage of sorts for the boats, with a metal roof that had rust along its edges.

Going off of the chill that wafted from the churning water, and spraying froth that stung your cheeks, the whole place was the perfect postcard for abandoned buildings.

Kyle craned his neck, eyes squinting at the tops of the trees that disappeared into a blanket of fog. No one could hear him scream from here, a place where not even seagulls scavenged. That's why they had left out a bit of cloth, there was no point.

A lump wound itself into the back of his throat, and he tried his darnedest to ignore it as he was ushered into the shack.

* * *

Kenny didn't bother with glancing to the side, he knew what Eric looked like. They both were the same right now, a pale and shitty reflection of themselves.

Unconsciously his fingers tightened around the steering wheel, testifying the emotions that boiled within.

"This whole thing is stupid." Kenny mumbled under his breath, making another left turn.

"Tell me about it." Eric grunted, uncaring if the person on the other end of his phone call heard. A second later he sighed, "No, I wasn't talking to you. Forget it. Who was there?"

The blonde shifted his weight in the seat, straining his ears to learn anymore information about Kyle's disappearance.

"Who?" Eric paused as the person responded, "I have no idea who that fucking is...Nah, doesn't ring a bell. Whatever, just round him up." Angrily he ended the conversation by hanging up, tossing his expensive cell onto the dashboard without a care.

Kenny spared him a glance, eyeing the disgruntled expression on the other. It almost made you believe that Eric was concerned about the well-being of Kyle, which was a worrisome thought.

"So tell me again, why are we going to your house? Shouldn't we be going to the police or something?"

Eric scrubbed at the side of his face, "Because Haley will be there. And besides, this isn't a police matter. Keep going straight."

The trees on either side of them thickened, creating the effect of being increasingly isolated.

"Why would she go to your house? She just had your boy toy snatched away. And last time I checked, you hate when people take your things. Why show somewhere you could get nuclear?"

Eric scoffed, "Because she doesn't know I know. And besides, now that she believes that Kyle is out of the picture she'll focus completely on me. And remember, I just got discharged from the hospital. She'll want me somewhere alone so she can nurse my fragile state of mind from that traumatic experience."

Just then the road turned into gravel, leading up to massive spiked iron gates.

"I thought you'd live in some penthouse in the middle of the capital?"

Eric shrugged, "I have several. This however will be for Haley, the perfect place for us to rekindle our relationship."

"I smell bullshit."

" _Exactly._ " He clasped the door handle, "I'll be fine to walk from here. You have more important things to do."

"Are you sure?" Kenny called out over the beeping sound of the door being opened, watching as Eric unbuckle his seat belt and climb out. He leaned down, just enough so they could share the same eye level.

"Yeah, she won't hurt me there."

"But will you hurt her?"

Eric ran his fingers through his hair, eyes turning dull as he stared at the manor in the distance.

"That's inevitable. Now stop fucking around with your dick, you got places to be." Eric slammed the door shut and patted the roof of the car. Careful to step back as the other backed out of the drive way, and drove off. Leaving with an ear splitting honk.

Eric sighed once more, facing the gate with distaste.

* * *

The inside of the shack wasn't very impressive, and was barely furnished at all. On the furthest side from the door was a table, with one leg shorter than the rest. Someone had shoved a book under it, making sure that you could semi use it. A third man sat at one of the two chairs by the table, fiddling with a dingy radio that weakly buzzed music as the unnamed man avoided layers of static.

By the door there was a pair of boots with holes in them, a fishing rod, tackle box, and a cooler. As soon as they entered the shack, the one that led their party waited for Kyle to be ushered in and the door locked, before he lifted the cooler over to the table and unlatched it. Inside there was ice to chill the bottles of beer, a tiny box that smelt of worms, and some sandwiches.

Pushed into a corner, Kyle slid to the floor, warily darting his eyes to each of the men.

"...So, know any good card games?" He asked, anxious to fill the silence. No one rose to answer the question, but Kyle was almost certain that the man with the radio rose a brow.

"...Goldfish anyone?"

He continued the rest of his survey, limited with the lackluster responses he received. The floor might have been waxed a life time ago, but now there was no finish, and it was ashy from the constant mud brought in by boots. Also there was a poster hung above the table, a photo of a naked model. Obviously ripped out from a porn magazine.

"Very classy." Kyle mumbled under his breath, nodding as Ms. June perched with a pool noodle that could not be classified as clothing, no matter how hard she tried in the photo.

He leaned against his wall, making himself as comfortable as he could. Within the silence of the shack, besides the fragments of music hindered by static, the steady and automatic breathing of a person, and the crash of waves against rocks, Eric's voice ran out in Kyle's head.

_...this thing you're pursuing is bigger than you. And you know it. For your own safety, I'd accept the money like everyone else has in your precious union. If not..._

Whether he liked to admit it, Eric was right. Something that was apparently happening recently on a recurring basis. Maybe Eric had been trying to warn him after all. If he ever got out of this...Kyle wasn't sure if he would kiss the air out of Eric's lungs, or punch him for putting him in this position. But either way, that didn't excuse him from ripping families away from their benefits and well earned pay checks.

Kyle shook his head, unknowingly catching the eye of the other men.

But regardless, after this he was going to have a fresh start. A brand new lease on life, which meant appreciating it more. That'd be the second step, the first would be getting drunk to forget this nightmare, erase it from his memory. And if he managed to slur out an apology or two, maybe Kyle could get Eric to forgive him. To not only loosen up, but to loosen his pants and morals as well.

Startled by a tightness, Kyle glanced around him. What the fuck...This wasn't exactly the best place to be having a boner. And envisioning potential fantasies weren't helping, and neither was the still too crystal clear memories he had.

As painful as it was, he crossed his legs. Trying to shift so some shadows covered up the crease along his groin, Kyle couldn't help but wish for someone to rescue him soon. He'd settle for Eric, or Stan. Even if he brought self righteous Wendy.

Anything would be better than this. Anything...


	21. To Dare And Damn

_"We're our own dragons as well as our own heroes, and we have to rescue ourselves from ourselves." - Tom Robbins_

 

Eric shut the front door behind him, ignoring the maid that reached to collect his coat and say her customary greetings.

"Haley!?" he yelled out, voice vibrating against the very foundations of his home. Lurking in the darkness of the long hallway, a meek noise rose up. Without a care if he brought the dirt on his shoes with him, Eric strolled forward to find its source.

This brought him to one of his many offices, and soon Eric was flinging the door open. Haley jumped at the sound, fingers frozen as they hovered above a keyboard.

She gave a worried smile, still remaining seated at Eric's desk and before a computer.

"You're back already? That was rather quick, don't you think?"

The muscle above Eric's left eyebrow twitched, and before Haley could say another word, he silenced her with three words.

"Who's Max Flores?"

She paled for a second, eyes momentarily not meeting his. But he had taught her well, as she recovered quickly. Flashing a confident grin, she leaned both elbows upon the wood of the desk, "Mr. Flores has been trying to get a hold of you for days, wanting to boost himself to something of a higher pay load." She waved it off, "You know how those vultures can be, so I filtered his calls. Didn't want him to take up your time and energy."

Eric made the few steps to the chair opposite of hers, letting the legs scrap viciously against the floorboards as he pulled it back for enough room to sit in. Crossing his own legs, he let a smirk settle into its rightful place on his face.

* * *

The erection was nearly gone now, but still enough to be an inconvenience. The movement of one of the men coming back inside re-situated his focus on his more pressing issue, the looming possibility of dying at the hands of hired men.

Eyeing Kyle like some strange animal, he walked up the man at the radio. He hunched over, whispering in the fellow's ear. It didn't take Kyle very long to figure he was the leader of their little group. Why? Kyle wasn't exactly sure.

As the other pulled away, the leader that Kyle had dubbed Captain Douche-bag in his thoughts, started speaking. It was quite the event, as Kyle had begun to believe that Captain Douche-bag was a mute, but this moment proved otherwise.

"Go help him with the concrete." Captain Douche-bag sneered, addressing the last kidnapper in the shack, Asshat McGee. Nodding, Asshat McGee rose to his feet, peeling himself away from the valuable task of sorting the tackle-box, and followed First Mate Herpes out the door.

"Can I go too?" Kyle called out, letting sarcasm sink into the thick air. Captain Douche-bag smirked, and for the first time ever, he removed himself from fiddling with the radio's knobs.

"Sure. How about a nice swim?"

Grunting as he was hauled into the air by the ropes wrapped around his torso and arms, Kyle stumbled as Captain Douche-bag dragged him out of the fisherman's shack.

"It's much too cold for me, maybe later." Kyle mumbled under his breath, fear returning again full swing.

"Trust me, the cold is the least of your worries."

* * *

Eric crossed his legs over one another, "I can appreciate an abduction as much as the next person, it takes a lot of guts and planning to pull. That is, if you do it right."

Haley's smile remained in place, never faltering as Eric went on.

"But when it affects me...well, I'm not too fond of that." Quietly Eric eyed a droplet of sweat form on Haley's forehead, rolling down the side of her face into the curtain of her hair.

She began to open her mouth, but Eric rose a single finger, silencing her once more.

"You may have collected a friend or two, Haley. But all of those people crave one thing. Money. And I have lots of it, and experience. Did you seriously think I wouldn't know about Kyle's disappearance? You know I keep constant tabs on everyone, especially the trio of dickwads. I never thought you could be so reckless and blind."

That made her snap, face flushing with rage as she leaned in close to Eric, "You want to talk about blindness, fine! Some asshole almost blinds you, and I'm the piece of shit?! How is any of that fair to me?! I'm the one that took care of you, and I still do! But no, I'm the appetizer, and no cares about them! And what's Kyle?! The dessert! Something bought and savored to the very last second!"

"And what? You thought taking my dessert would make me suddenly crave you?"

Haley's fist smacked the desk hard, a thunder of sound. Trembling with her anger, she stood on her feet, making sure she towered over her boss.

"At least it's a start! Heaven forbid you ever show compassion ever in your life!"

Eric jumped to his own feet, glaring, "Haven't you figured it out?! I'm greedy, sadistic, I'm everything that you shouldn't love! I've spent the majority of my life doing things to belong, and actually feel for once! What made you think you were different?!"

Haley couldn't help the flinch that overcame her, "Because...I-"

"Because I what? Was nicer to you than the others, picked you?!"

Tears fell from Haley's red cheeks, splattering against the wood, "Yes! Because for once I felt like I mattered to another human being!"

The air caught in Eric's throat, forming a massive lump as he stood, watching Haley unravel. He hated seeing her like this, but he needed to crack her open, in order to bare their wounds and finally let their scars heal. There couldn't be anymore lies or misunderstanding between them, never again.

"I can never love you." Eric whispered, but it still felt as if he screamed it. Haley shuttered and formed into a mass of hiccups, gasping for air to steady herself. Still, Eric knew not to comfort her now, to don more false smiles. That was a brief fix, and definitely not the solution.

"Not how you want me to" he added, staring deep into the other's eyes as he let himself, for once, be honest.

"I need you as family, a sister. Someone to come back to, someone that wouldn't do this." He gestured at the situation they were in, "I've spent my whole life this, hiding. I don't want to do that anymore, I can't. Throughout my whole life..." He paused, gazing at the back of the computer as he furrowed his brow, "I wanted unity. A family to call my own. I may have had my mother, but it was always a game to get something out of her, and it was clear I was only there to fill a gap in her that could never be complete."

"A-and Kyle...what is he to you?"

Eric turned back to Haley, the tears had stopped, but her cheeks were still sticky from it.

"He's like a breath of fresh air, always there, but invigorating every time. I can't explain it, he..." Eric wet his lips anxiously "...I don't know, he's unpredictable. Maybe it won't work out, but he feels right to me. I've known him since we were kids, and still he manages to evoke something in me. We have something that's constantly shifting, and despite who get's hurt, it's fun. We both expect that, and accept it. I'm not sure whether to be terrified or giddy."

Reluctantly Haley's shoulders slumped, and with a sigh she fell back into her seat.

"And what about us? What do I possibly get out of being your sole family?"

Eric seated himself as well, body less tense but still buzzing with an unknown emotion. Whatever it was, he was sure to associate it with Kyle.

"I'll return the favour."

"What, you'll be my family?" Haley broke out into a series of snickers, "I hate to break it to you, but I already have a family."

"Really? Because a second ago you said you wanted to matter to another human being. Haley, you never take holidays off. Or go prancing in the snow with your family, exchange presents, or whatever people do. And don't you dare blame that on me! You may have confused your true feelings with lust, but I always knew what you wanted from me."

Haley's once sluggish form perked up, arriving to attention with a sneer, "Oh? Please enlighten me, Mr. Cartman."

So he did just that, and calmly as he could, he said, "You're just as lonely as I am, Haley. The only difference between us being you're just desperate to have a connection with another human, to share the little things. And despite whatever I did or said in the past, I have grown to care for you, Haley. Immensely. If I were a child again, you'd be the mother I'd want, that I'd finally find peace in."

* * *

Captain Douche-bag dragged the terrified Kyle the rest of the way to the garage meant for boats, tossing him to a corner of the building as he popped his head out for a second.

From his spot, Kyle could roughly make out Captain Douche-bag muttering "Where the fuck are those two idiots?" over the crash of the waves.

Only a couple of minutes had past before the two men showed up again, wearing ski masks this time. Silently Kyle had wished they had drowned on their way to grab the concrete blocks.

"What the hell is this?! I said no masks! I don't care how cold it is out here, take those off! And where's the concrete?!"

Asshat McGee briefly gave an affirmative glance to First Mate Herpes before he punched Captain Douche-bag, sending him stumbling backwards. He stepped too far, falling straight into the gap for the boats, causing him to catch his chin on the edge of the docks.

His chin spouted a nasty stream of blood, and rendered him unconscious as he sunk into the icy waters below.

Kyle spun around from the sight to watch as his other two kidnappers remove their new masks, presenting Stan and Kenny.

"Oh shit." Stan groaned, and sprinted to Kyle's side. "Don't move" he mumbled, removing a pocket knife from his trousers, and immediately started cutting his way through them.

After a few painful and drawn out seconds, Kyle's bindings were gone. And even if he'd mostly lost feeling in them, Kyle rubbed at his arms and the bruises that covered them.

"H-how'd you know I was here?" Kyle croaked out, relief causing tears to swell at the corners of his eyes.

Simultaneously his rescuers said, "Cartman."

Kyle let out a loud groan, "Oh course it was him!"

Kenny stepped forward, dropping his mask to the ground, "Look, I'm all for happy reunions, but we need to leave. The rope we used on the other guys was garbage, and I'm pretty sure Kyle could use a hospital visit."

Nodding his approval, Stan gripped one side of Kyle, while Kenny grabbed the other. Together they hauled the complaining lawyer out of the garage, and up the winding path where Kenny's car was hidden. The exact trail that Kyle had used on his way to this hellhole. Just as they were coming up the edge of the treeline, a sound had them twisting around to look once again.

Asshat McGee and First Mate Herpes had freed themselves from their bonds, and started to make their way towards them.

"We left your boss in the garage's water, you might want to fetch him before he drowns!" Kenny bellowed out to them. And that had the two men halting before they ran as fast as they could towards the garage, leaving the trio of young men to complete their escape.

Neither said anything until not only was everyone in Kenny's car, but he had navigated through the trees safely and had pulled onto a highway heading towards the nearest town.

From the back seats, Kyle called out, "Kenny, can you do me a favour?"

Kenny laughed, "You're asking for favours after I just saved your ass?!" Kenny flashed the redhead a comforting smile through the car's mirror, "Sure, why not. What do you want?"

"I need you to take me to Eric."

That demand almost made Kenny crash into a tree, but thankfully he swerved just in time. Rolling to an abrupt stop, Kenny shared a grimace with Stan before looking over his shoulder towards Kyle.

"Uh, if that's what you want. Sure."

"It is. And guys...? Thank you."

Kenny and Stan's face blossomed into a very humble smile, and a quiet "You're welcome" was said by both.


	22. A Conclusion For Two

 

_"And in real life endings aren't always neat, whether they're happy endings, or whether they're sad endings." - Stephen King_

 

A lone man sat out on his back porch, sipping away at a strawberry flavoured water. Since Haley had agreed to his terms, with a bit of complaint and barbed words, she immediately fell into her role. When Eric had reached for a beer, Haley ripped it from his grasp and poured it down the sink's drain, then offered him the water.

It seemed they would be working towards putting him onto a healthy diet, seeing as he had been eating nothing but fast food and pop for a while.  
Eric might have missed the easy meals, but a part of him was glad he'd be turning back. This new lifestyle made him feel slower, and considerably not in control, and that's something he couldn't live without.

He settled himself further into his coat, watching as snowflakes drifted from the stormy clouds, and make their way down to the ground below. The water was freezing when it made its way to his lips, but he didn't care. The sensation of nerves tingling with the liquid, proved he was still alive and functioning.

The door to the back opened, almost muffled as it came to a close. Eric didn't bother to see who it was, he was already certain the visitor was Haley, checking on him for the hundredth time again.

"I already told you I was fine." Eric mumbled, taking another lengthy sip from his drink.

There was a pause before a voice answered him, sweet on the cool breeze.

"I wanted to check on you anyways."

Eric spun around, sputtering out his drink as he beheld Kyle standing not too far from him.

"What are you doing here?!" Eric choked, wiping at the water that dribbled down his chin.

Kyle shifted his weight, uncomfortable with this high tension moment and the clothes Stan had lent him. He was a few inches taller than Stan, but he was lanky where Stan was filled out with physical labour. And so the clothes he wore were a size too big on him. He pulled on the sleeves with his fingers, eyes locked with Eric as he stood there.

It took him a while to realize what he wanted to say, and after a sigh, he sat beside Eric. Overlooking the expanse of the yard, a blanket of snow lay on-top the grass and trees.

"We need to talk, that is, if we want to..." He waved his hand, "settle this."

Eric snorted, setting his drink to the side, "First you break my nose by throwing glass at me, now you want to talk? Or do you just want to settle this by a brawl on the yard?"

Kyle caught himself staring at the taped off portion of Eric's face, and quickly he glanced away.

"I deserve that, but you have to admit. You haven't been the best to me either, considering.." He yanked his sleeves up, ignoring the goosebumps that rose from the flesh being revealed to the cold weather, showing his bruises from the rope.

The other's expression darkened, and without a word, he reached a hand out to them. Lightly his fingers traced the outlines, raising even more shivers from Kyle with his warm grip.

His eyes met Kyle's, "I had nothing to do with this" he whispered.

Kyle nodded, breath caught in his throat as he remembered how easily he'd been taken right from his home, "I know. Kenny told me on the way here. It was her..wasn't it?"

Eric removed his grip as if he'd been burned, rivaling that expression was the cold exterior he donned.  
"Yes, but it's been taken care of."

"How, were the police told?"

A second passed, and any possibility of Eric having a cheerful attitude with it. His brows knitted together, and Kyle was sure he struggled with not breaking the redhead's own nose. And yet, with this space in time, Kyle was the first to fill in the divide.

Green eyes tore from brown, fixated on the distance ahead of them; bare tree branches swaying with the current of wind.

"I didn't come here to fight, but to thank you. I know you're the one to gather Kenny and Stan, so thank you. But can I..." Kyle sucked in a breath, hurriedly casting a glance to Eric, "...can I ask you something? I'll forget about Haley if you answer me this."

The brunette nodded, solemnity mixed with a dollop of concern and curiosity.

"What's the purpose of it?"

"I don't get what you mean."

Absently Kyle rubbed his hands together, "Buying companies, throwing families to the curb with their pay. It's chaos; before, you warned me about it. You said you were a pawn, and I want to know why."

With a large groan, Eric ran his fingers through his hair, "Of all of the questions you could ask, it had to be that!? Not, 'what does the future hold for us?', or 'will I ever find someone else who is as good at sex as you are?' Typical."

Kyle snorted, "You said you'd answer it."

"But that was before I-! Oh, whatever. Have it your way, you sneaky Jew."

Patiently Kyle waited until Eric managed to relax enough to begin speaking.

"You're probably wondering why we decided to buy that dumpy mine, right?" Kyle nodded "Well let me give you a brief history lesson. In 1859 the mine was first used for gold, during which was the Pike's Peak Gold Rush. However, ever since then the gold has dried up. My use is for the sandstone rock deposits."

"Sandstone rock deposits?"

Eric hummed under his breath, "You can mine uranium from them. Which, along with the petroleum mined, we'll use it for..."

"For...?"

"Military purposes, time travel. You know, government issued and researched."

"Wait a fucking second!" Kyle called out, "Did you just say time travel?!"

"Yes, Kyle!" Eric hissed, "Why don't you say it any louder, you fucking idiot!"

Scoffing, the red haired man slapped the side of Eric's arm, frowning at the jab.

"Obviously we're just in the beginning phases, more research than anything. But still, there's a lot of money invested in it. Very hushed stuff."

"That's why you bought all of those electrical companies?"

Eric broke out into a large grin, "Found out about that, did you?" His broad shoulders rose in a lazy shrug "We shift the previous employees from the companies, and transfer them to new ones. Obviously we condition them, just to make sure they don't suspect anything and begin talking to their families or friends. Nothing like brainwashing, but to be sure they don't notice a large sum of their produce being shipped elsewhere. The hard part is to begin moving them, so we use multiple ways to set the wheel in motion. How does that saying go...? Loose lips.."

"...sink ships." Kyle quickly finished for him, "...But that doesn't make sense to me. That mass movement must cause a lot of uproar, but I haven't heard of it? Shouldn't this make headlines in the news? Or at least something?"

"It should. Then again, the government has a lot of sway in the media. As for myself, I haven't gotten this far by letting strings knot. Their new jobs and benefits usually put an end to their wailing. But sometimes they need additional force, that's when we look into their backgrounds for blackmail."

Kyle realized something with a start, and a frown locked into place as he said, "Is that why Mr. Barrett and Mrs. Morton decided to drop their charges against your company?"

Reluctantly Eric nodded, "It didn't take a lot of digging to yank their skeletons out of their metaphorical closets."

The older of the two shook his head in disbelief, this was certainly a lot to process. Still, there was something that bothered him. Summing up what remained of his nerves, Kyle faced Eric once more. "If what you're telling me is true, I don't have to worry about those families being without their pay and benefits for long. But there's...When you warned me, did you know it'd be Haley?"

With greater hesitance than before, Eric shook his head.

"I knew your desire for the truth would rouse someone's attention, but I never thought it would be Haley's. My presence for this project is more for the ability to slid under the radar, and get people who are qualified to make it come to fruition. When I...warned you, I thought it was because of a high-status official would notice. As hard as it is to say, I'm thankful it was Haley that kidnapped you." As if his mouth was dry, Eric grabbed his glass and downed the remainder of his beverage. Quenching his thirst, then he continued, "She's just testing her claws in this world, so I knew it wouldn't be hard to find where you'd been. If it was one of my sponsors, well, let's just say we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

It was a chilling thought for Kyle, but he knew it to be truthful. With a nod, which spoke very little of his swirling thoughts, he rose to his feet.

"That's all I wanted to know, thank you." He spared Eric a quick glance before he made his way to the door, only to stop because a hand had been placed onto his shoulder.

He couldn't stop staring at the wood of the door, held in a trance by the warmth of the grip. From its connection, the hand was sending jolts to his trembling nerves.  
Swallowing the lump in his throat, slowly Kyle turned around. Eric was a lot closer to him than he expected, wearing a strange expression on his face.

"...Yes?"

The brunette opened his mouth, desperate to convey the wave of emotions that crushed his innards. Instead, he was distracted by the reddened complexion of Kyle's cheeks, a massive contrast to the lawyer's tan skin. He wasn't entirely sure if it was because of the cold weather, or maybe...

Without thinking he rubbed his thumb against the contour of the flushed flesh, skimming over the sharp detail of Kyle's cheekbone. He made a path down to the soft surface of the other's lips, slightly chapped from the climate. With the smallest of pressure Kyle's mouth parted.

The movement had the air electrified between them, breathing shallow and heated. As if entranced by a tug, Eric brought his own closer.

Knowing what was to happen, Kyle's eyelashes fluttered to a close, unconsciously tilting his head at the intimate position they shared. Warm breath skated along the other's, mingling as only a sliver was between.

Haley opened the back porch's door, holding a cell in hand.

"Sir, there's a-" She came to an abrupt stop, eyes widening comically at the sight.

Just as quickly as it had happened, Eric and Kyle peeled themselves from one another with a jolt. Hands were pressed to themselves, and throats were cleared.

"What is it Haley?" Eric snapped; both were ashamed to be blushing profoundly, and accordingly it left no imagination to the blonde what was about to occur. It still hurt her terribly to see the pair together, but for both her own sake, along with Eric's, she dashed away the sensation.

"You have a call to take." She waved the cell, and couldn't help the chortle that bubbled from her lips.

Eric snatched the device, gesturing for Haley to leave. Unfortunately the damage was done, though Kyle purposely wouldn't acknowledge the physical form of Haley, he mumbled a "I have to go" all the same. Fleeing before Eric could gather his wits, Kyle brushed shoulders with Haley before he let himself out.

As the last of Kyle's springy red curls left his field of vision, Eric groaned a loud. His hands were quick to thread through his messy hair, "Fucking lovely" he grumbled.

Accusingly he glared at his assistant/family member, flashing her a middle finger in annoyance.

She leaned against the door frame, hand upon her hip as she grinned like a Cheshire, "Does that mean you'll be having dinner now?"

Grunting, Eric pushed past her, "Only if you're slow cooked over a grill."

Haley closed the door with the back of her heel, ever so eager to follow the brunette down the hall, "I'll get the barbecue sauce."

* * *

_Three hours later..._

The sun was long gone, and the only thing to hint its passing was the streaks of violet and orange in the seething sky.

After Kyle had been dropped off by Kenny, he immediately searched through his fridge for something to eat. It had been a long day filled with suspense, and he was absolutely famished. Luckily he had enough meat and kosher pickles to have a quick sandwich, or four. He was just on his second when the door was knocked upon.  
The sound had him bristling with the familiar blade of terror, slicing with tender anxiety and anticipation. Quietly he placed his plate aside, and rose to his feet. Breath caught in his throat, he made his way to the front. As he came upon it, he paused, and he silently opened the closet reserved for coats and shoes. Against the corner was a bat, and he withdrew it.

Armed, Kyle held it above his shoulder in striking position as he unlocked the door and inched it open. The drop in his stomach readied the redhead for this spontaneous fight, and the potential of being kidnapped again.

As Eric met his glare, he only gave a seconds notice before he was a couple of feet back.

"Wait, wait! It's just me! I just wanted to talk!"

Kyle just as quickly dropped his weapon, regret dousing him.

"Oh my God! I'm so fucking sorry!" He cast a glance behind him, then meeting Eric's eye once more, he gave a sheepish smile. "Um, won't you please come in...?"

Darting forward so the redhead wouldn't change his mind, Eric entered his home with a wary expectation.

Kyle moved back inside, tossing his bat to the side of the hallway. After the door was shut and locked, Kyle was surprised to find Eric's retreated form head towards the living room. Fuelled by curiosity, Kyle raced after the tall brunette.

To his silent delight, Eric lounged on the lawyer's couch, fitting all too well in the room. It was almost like he belonged there.

Rubbing his hands together in worry, Kyle made his way over. Unlike the usual instances when they met, Eric wasn't wearing a tailored suit. Instead he wore dark jeans that were rather tight in the groin area, but not the legs. And to go with the pants, his dress shirt a flattering shade of dark purple, was neatly rolled to his elbows.

They were so unlike Kyle's own attire, baggy but warm pajama pants covered in snowflakes(something his mother had bought him), and a plain t-shirt. Something that wasn't classy, but perfect for relaxing in after a rough day. Even his Star Wars themed socks made him feel low about his clothing.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Well I..." Eric broke off, and after squinting for a second, continued once again, "I'm going to be honest, I came here to finish what Haley interrupted."

"Oh..." Kyle mumbled, and with everything considered, he'd been wishing for the exact thing. But that didn't mean he was prepared for this unexpected twist of events.

Heartbeat picking up, along with the sweat arriving on his hands, Kyle closed the small distance between them.

Hunching over so their faces were near, Kyle hastened to press their mouths together. Though the warmth of Eric's lips against his had Kyle's chest squeezing, a grunt of pain had him pulling away. He eyed Eric in concern, "Are you okay?"

Lightly Eric's fingertips brushed his taped off nose, "No, I keep forgetting its broken." A few more pained grunts escaped him, causing Kyle to swell in guilt and despair.

"I guess we shouldn't-"

Sensing the other's train of thought, Eric snatched Kyle's arm, and pulled him back down for another kiss. Just as the red haired man began to sigh into his mouth, Eric moved back once again.

"Arg, your nose isn't helping things either!"

Straightening his spine once again, Kyle frowned, "My nose...?"

"Well yeah, cause it's..." Eric gestured to the prominent nose, trying to get his point across.

Just as Kyle crossed his arms, waiting for Eric to elaborate(which would land him into somewhere of no return), the brunette back-pedaled.

"Forget about it, this isn't going to work out."

Kyle dropped his arms, watching in disbelief as Eric climbed to his feet and begun to walk back towards the door. Fearful that this visit and night would be at an end, Kyle stilled him by grabbing Eric's elbow, "Wait! Where are you going?"

Tossing him a glance over his shoulder, Eric shrugged, "Home."

"You...you don't have to go home tonight."

That had Eric turning around fully, smile stretched across his face, "Why, _Kahl_ , are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Kyle chewed on his bottom lip, "Don't make me regret this."

"Have I ever?" Eric sung with that smirk of his, ushering Kyle into a trek to the bedroom.

They had barely entered the room when Kyle begun to yank his t-shirt off and toss it to the other side of the room, along with his socks. Hooking his fingers under both his pajama pants and underwear, Kyle twisted around to watch as Eric finished the last buttons of his dress shirt, and drop it to the ground.

He waited until Eric was unzipping his jeans before he leaned over, kissing the expansion of the other's shoulders.

Shivering, Eric gave Kyle a toothy grin before his pants were pooled around his feet. Stepping out of them, he pulled his boxers down as well, unlike Kyle who still had his fingers holding the layers of fabric together.

That didn't last long, as Eric jerked them down for him. As soon as Kyle was just as bare as the day he was born, Eric drew him to the bed as they flopped onto it.  
With Kyle on top, Eric nipped at any flesh he could reach, careful of his nose as he did so. The effect had Kyle groaning in pleasure, slightly swaying as he sat in the other's lap.

To steady himself, his hands curled around Eric's shoulders, squeezing until his blunt fingernails made flushed lines on the flesh.

"Does this remind you any fond memories?" Eric purred, voice heavy with his lust as he spoke around the skin of Kyle's clavicle.

"Some." Kyle admitted through clenched teeth, shuddering at the erection pressed against him. Removing one of his hands, it trailed down to his own belly and finally to his arousal, giving it a few rough yanks. He gasped at the feeling paired with teeth scraping against his chest and the quick swipes of Eric's tongue on the irritated areas.  
"I'd be faster if I were you." Kyle hissed, trembling with pent up desire. For the longest time he was left with only his memory and his hand, a pale second to having Eric with him in the flesh.

"So impatient." Eric mumbled, but still reaching a hold of himself.

The sight had Kyle eagerly leaning to the side, and sliding the drawer to the nightstand open. As he shifted through the contents, looking for a bottle of clear liquid, Eric skimmed his fingertips over Kyle's thighs.

Finally he grabbed a hold of it, handing the lube to Eric. Within a second Eric popped open the lid, and poured a generous amount into the palm into his hand. After smearing his sticky hand over the tip of his penis, then he moved onto the body hovering above him.

Kyle whined at the cold prodding fingers, teasing his entrance as the first one barely sunk in. Eric's index finger had only slipped in to its first knuckle when a second was added, stretching Kyle in a most delightful way. He groaned a loud, eyes sliding shut as he rocked himself on the digits.

Chuckling under his breath, Eric briefly curled his fingers before he slipped them out once again. Immediately Kyle groaned with the loss, eyes opening so he could lift himself enough so Eric could press the head of his throbbing erection against Kyle's asshole.

Bracing his trembling legs, Kyle slowly lowered himself, becoming impaled by the rock hard length. Moaning as he was filled up, the redhead could barely hear Eric say, "And greedy too."

Digging handfuls of Eric's shoulders, Kyle began to ride the brunette, moans drifting into the air as a mouth was at the joining of his shoulder and neck.

The slow pace climbed into a hurried gallop, catching the pair in a frenzy. As Kyle's voice built into one loud moan after another, borderline screaming, the bed's headboard crashed against the wall with each thrust.

"Fuck!" Kyle called out, sweat pouring from his forehead and dripping down to his tan chest. With a spare hand he moved Eric's mouth from his throat and to his own, crashing them together so he could tangle his tongue with the other's. Meshed long enough so he could become drugged on the taste of Eric, Kyle pulled away, remembering the complaint said earlier about a certain nose.

From beneath him, Eric cursed under his breath, thrusting with all the strength he possessed into Kyle's tight heat. There he searched until he brushed against it, only knowing when Kyle cried the loudest moan to date, something that Eric smugly realized was his name.

With a husky chuckle, he then specifically aimed for the discovered cluster of nerves, Kyle's prostate. With the raise in Kyle's volume, which was repeatedly Eric's name, the apartment upstairs thundered in anger. The widow, whom Kyle would remember much later in humiliation after an encounter tomorrow in the hallway, shouted "Shut the fuck up!"

Only Eric seemed to hear her, and in retaliation, pounded into Kyle harder. With each contact with the nerves, and the hot breath of Eric's pants on his chest, quickly Kyle found his climax.

"Ahhh! Oh my... _Eric!_ "

Eyes rolling to their whites, Kyle's breath hitched as he spasmed above Eric, only managing to hang on by clinging to his lover. The coil in his belly sprung into a quake of pleasure that shot down to the tips of his toes as he sprayed his semen onto the stretch of Eric's chest.

He gasped as Eric took a few more deep thrusts, until he too came. Groaning with his much needed release, Eric panted as he filled Kyle with his warm seed.

Licking his lips until they became wet, Eric peeled his eyes open to flash a satisfied smile at Kyle.

Loopy with his own pleasure, Kyle shared the smile, reached a hand to brush Eric's sticky hair from his forehead. Content and incredibly relaxed, he leaned forward to place a gentle kiss onto the side of Eric's face.

Hesitant, Kyle lifted himself off of Eric's now flaccid length and laid down on his back beside him. The lights from the living room barely kept the bedroom dim, and now the pair struggled to see one another in the near complete darkness of the room. But they didn't need to see one another, not really.

Each listened to the sound of their mixed breathing and the howling of the wind and snow outside, it had sleep creeping upon them. As Kyle fought to stay awake, enticed by the warmth radiating off of Eric, he was surprised to hear the other's deep drawl fill the room.

"I think I know what I've been feeling."

"What?" Kyle whispered, tilting his head to face Eric's.

The man beside him paused, and Kyle inched a bit closer so he could hear better, nose twitching with the scent of vanilla, smoke, musk, and now sex wafting off of Eric.  
"There's definitely attraction there, but..."

"But...?"

"..."

"...Eric...?" Kyle whispered once again, worry nagging his sated nerves.

"I think I love you, Jew."

Kyle's breath was caught in his throat, and unsuspecting, he was caught in a tidal wave of feelings. He didn't think he'd ever speak again, but eventually he found his voice. His hand sought Eric's in the dark, and soon enough he found it, large and firm with its heat.

"I love you too, you big asshole."

Their hands squeezed each other, and Kyle couldn't help but notice his once lonely and large bed had quickly been filled up. It wasn't by Stan as he had originally expected, but he couldn't find it within himself to care about the difference. And neither could Eric, whom for once didn't feel like he didn't belong.

_The End._

* * *

 

  
**The Final Author's Note:**

  
**Holy shit, that's it. After Hours has been completed once and for all, and its only been how long since the first chapter post?!**

  
**For all of those who've started and finished this story, waited until every tiresome update, thank you! The hits, kudos, bookmarks, and comments have all been appreciated!!! More importantly, I'm thankful that you've stayed as the plot, themes, and characters grew.**

  
**This certainly didn't start and finish as I expected, but now that it has been finished, I can't say I'm not glad with the changes. I hope you enjoyed my little story, and the liberties I took!**

  
**Twenty two chapters might not seem like a lot to you, but for me it was a trudge across the Arctic and back. Anyway, thanks for putting up with the awkward situations and swearing!**

  
**Keep on shipping and reading! xoxo**

  
**\- BookishTea (Clara/Claire)**  
**PS. Ignore any or all grammar mistakes, haha.**

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist for the fic: http://8tracks.com/bookishtea/after-hours  
> WARNING, it's always updating. Enjoy.


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